Frisson
by Reuben deFlash
Summary: Severus Snape was never one for affection. But when a new student arrives midterm and Hogwarts and exhibits extrordinary potions skills, he has to battle with his emotions if he is to remain within his own stifling boundaries. AU. R&R please
1. An Interruption

**Chapter 1**

Snape breathed deeply and didn't turn around when the students walked into his classroom. The dungeon was immediately filled with the incessant chatter of final year potion students, and he already found the idea of having to spend an hour with them repugnant. Still, it was Potter's class. Longbottom was sure to doing something ridiculous. He turned and glared at them all. Silence fell amongst them as they sat in the seats, taking out potion books and pencils to make notes with. He scanned the room and looked to see if anyone was absent...no...Thirteen pupils. Snape tutted in his mind. He couldn't penalise anyone for being late if they were all present. Even Weasley had managed to make it through the door in time, though he was still rifling through his bag for a book. Still, that was _something_. "Weasley," Snape called out, "when you've prepared yourself, could you do us the courtesy of handing out the Advanced Potions manuals?"

Ron looked up from his satchel with a despondent look and mumbled "Yes, Professor." Snape gave a smirk.

"Today, we're going to be investigating the effects of a successful Itching Draught." The class made faces. "Unpleasant but effective, and a particularly difficult potion to prepare. If you get it just slightly incorrect..." he paused and looked directly at Neville, who was already looking green, "the harmless itches could turn into potentially life threatening sores." He had paced the room, and reached Longbottom's table. "Of the flesh eating kind." Neville swallowed hard. "Needless to say you'll be testing each other's potions. Lucky for whoever should be fortunate enough to work with Miss Granger," he sneered, making Hermione scowl, "yet ill-fated for Longbottom's partner, I'm sure."

He returned to the front of the classroom picking up a timer. "You'll have an hour; the directions are on page..."

He stopped short on his instructions as the dungeon door opened. A tall girl, with long hair slipped in and shut the latch delicately. The sound resonated across the stone walls. The girl, conscious of fourteen pairs of eyes on her, smiled weakly and looked Snape.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said clearly, her voice ringing as clear as the sound of the latch had been, "but I just came from Dumbledore. I'm supposed to have potions right now?" She looked at the cauldrons and back to Snape's face with a confidence dissimilar to any other student he'd seen. Snape looked at her, confused momentarily, and then nodded. "Sit down," he simply said, "Miss...?"

"Alana Cross," she said smiling whilst moving past students towards an empty seat beside Hermione, who was regarding the new arrival through wide eyes. "Professor...?"

He narrowed his eyes at her as she got her pencils and wand out. "Snape...Professor Snape," he said unsure what to make of her. "Surely the headmaster told you who was teaching you?" She shook her head, making her hair dance.

Snape recomposed himself, determined not to let this shake him off. They'd already lost time. "Well, Miss Cross, put your wand away we won't need it in here. You can partner with Granger as there's little time for me to explain the nature of today's practical with you." He paused, and looked from Potter, to Malfoy, and back to Alana. "What house are you in Miss Cross?"

"Gryffindor," she answered blandly. "I just got sorted." There was a murmur of excitement in the Gryffindor's and a groan from the rest of the class. Malfoy whispered, "Another one?" and scowled at Alana's head. She looked at everyone, and frowned slightly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Granger is also in your house as well as being an insufferable know-it-all, and even though you won't be able to partake today, you will still be expected to complete the theory...an essay on the applications of the Itching Draught throughout history." There was a groan. "Get on with the task."

Snape sat at his desk as the pupils began slicing their ingredients. His eyes fell upon the new pupil. Another Gryffindor. He had seen the righteous smiles of her fellow housemates as they welcomed her, when moments before they had been unsure. Children were so fickle. Still, she was odd, Snape admitted to himself. Now, she smiled animatedly as Granger told her something about the potion. She had tied her hair back and was cutting some rapeseed stems. There was something very different about this strange girl.

***

Alana sat down between Hermione and Ginny, the girl she had now learnt was Ron's sister. She smiled warmly at everyone, and tried to answer questions politely.

"So Alana, explain again why you're here at Hogwarts now?" asked a boy that Hermione knew.

"Well," Alana began helping herself to some of the delicious looking food that had appeared before them. "I began my wizarding education at Beaubatons; my parents worked out in France, so it made sense to enrol there. We've just moved back, and although it took a lot of string pulling, Dumbledore was happy to take me on. You're only half a term in."

"But...don't they all speak French?" Ron asked.

"No, we mostly speak in English. It's the language of the wizarding world. Although," she paused sipping her orange juice. "I can speak French."

"What electives have you done?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Runes and Transfiguration are my advanced Newts, but I'm still doing Charms and all the others." She paused again. "Not Divination though. Or Muggle Studies."

"None of us do them either," Harry said. "Hermione does Muggle studies and we all did Divination until we could drop it."

"And I'm not NEWT level," Ginny added smiling sweetly.

Alana smiled and popped a grape in her mouth. She was exhausted. She was painfully aware of not only the Gryffindor table being focused on her, but her arrival had spread like wildfire to all the other houses and the teachers themselves. Dumbledore's friendly face glanced her way a couple of times, a small dwarfish man who she was told was called Flitwick, turned to a bug like lady and said something after seeing her. Only one face did not look at her, or look at anyone, and that was the potions teacher. A strange man, she thought, when she first saw him, and now he seemed even stranger. He seemed isolated and uninterested. Alana frowned.

"What was the name of the teacher we had earlier for potions?" she asked casually.

"Snape." It was Harry who answered. His voice was hostile. "Severus Snape."

"Oh yes, I remember now," she nodded, "Is he always that...bad tempered?"

"Yes," the Gryffindors chorused.

"Oh," Alana said laughing. "I see."

Ron scoffed. "He hates teaching and students. He _wants_ to teach DADA, even now. Dumbledore'll never give it to him though."

"He's a good potions teacher," Hermione admitted, "but he hates Gryffindors, and picks on us all the time. Poor Neville gets it the worst."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what was up today. I think you just sort of coming in like that put him off. He doesn't like losing control, even for a little while. And when he found out you were one of us..." Ron shrugged, "well, your fate was decided."

Alana looked back at the man.

"It's a shame," Ron sighed, "I'd been really good at Potions if it weren't for that git." Everyone laughed. Hermione looked at Alana. "You'll have to try to not let him affect you. You were very good today, even without having the instructions given to you, and him throwing you in the deep end."

"It's too bad you have to do the essay though," Harry said kindly.

"I shouldn't think it'll be a problem," Alana said quietly.

***

There was a knock at the door to Snape's office later that evening.

"Draco," he said with a faint smile. "What do you want?"

"That new girl," Malfoy said looking at his nails and perching on the edge of a table. "She's from Beaubatons."

Snape continued to look at the book in his hands. "Is there a reason why you thought that would interest me Draco?"

"No professor," Malfoy said swinging his legs. "I actually came to talk about a hint for the essay. Just thought I'd mention it in passing."

Snape nodded and closed his book, placing it back on the shelf at picking another out. "So, she's a Beaubatons girl then." Malfoy nodded.

Snape sat down. "Then no doubt she'll be flirtatious, arrogant and believe that the rules apply to everyone but herself. I've known many Beaubatons girls. None were particularly grounded. Although I hear the school has turned out a _few_ well educated women, I've yet to see one. It is a school designed to puff up a female's self image and enhance the idea she is better than she is. This certainly explains her self confidence," Snape looked at Draco. "Have you spoken to her?"

Malfoy shook his head.

"Didn't she seem...sure of herself in class?"

"I didn't think so," Draco said looking away in thought. "Not overly. Apart from being a Gryffindor, what I heard her say was alright."

"Why did she leave Beaubatons?"

"Her parents moved."

Snape put his hands together, and looked down. "I'll have to watch her I think. It may take her a while to understand the rules of Hogwarts. Beaubatons is a completely different wizarding school."

Malfoy nodded and looked at his teacher with a slight frown. "Do you think she'll cause trouble?"

Snape didn't answer and merely raised his eyebrows. Malfoy nodded thoughtfully and got up to leave.

"You might begin with looking at Berwyn the Ninth for your essay, Draco," Snape called out as he shut the dungeon door.


	2. A Beaubatons Girl

**Chapter 2 - A Beaubatons Girl**

Alana moved silently through the corridors of the lower part of Hogwarts. Although it was bright outside, a beautiful October day, the light of the sun didn't touch this part of the castle. It felt as if it were night down here, with flickering lanterns and candles, shadows crossing hers. Her fingers gingerly held the parchment in her hands. She had reached the door to Snape's office before she knew it, and lifted her hand to knock. She hesitated. She had a strange feeling; the kind she often got before doing something that could have consequences. She had gotten the same feeling when she had gotten on the broomstick her brother had "altered" when she was just seven. The contraption threw her off and nearly killed her. Spending three weeks in France's best wizarding hospital _La Coeur Sacre_ had not been her idea of a holiday. Still, swallowing down that nervous feeling, Alana knocked on the dungeon door.

"Come in," a deep voice called.

She slipped into the office the same way she did when she came to the class the day before. Professor Snape was sitting at his desk marking essays, and frowning. She could see a faint smile on his lips as he read someone's work.

"You should read this Malfoy, this student actually thinks..." he stopped because he had had looked up and seen that it was Alana, standing near the door, holding some parchment. He stood up quickly.

"What is it Miss Cross?" he said curtly.

She looked hesitant and looked down. "I've...I've brought you that essay. I'm not sure how you like your essays to be written and I only know the techniques I've been taught at my previous school. I thought..." she paused because his eyes were dark, and his face hostile. "I thought, Professor," she said boldly, composing herself, "that I would give it to you early and then maybe you can give it back..."

"I see no sense in that," he said cutting her off. "You could hand it in with the others. You'll learn how I like to have my essays written when I give it back."

"With respect, Professor Snape," Alana pressed, "I don't want the first essay I write to be at T level."

He paused, and looked at her coldly. "Fine, hand me you essay."

She walked over quietly, and frowned as he snatched it away. He could see that she had written far more than he'd asked. "Did you write this last night?"

"No, earlier today."

"Well, it should make for interesting reading," Snape sneered. "You can go."

Alana had never been more pleased to follow an instruction.

***

When Alana left the room, Snape counted to ten before he quickly walked around to sit back at his desk. He was dying to see what this girl had written, this strange girl who wasn't afraid of him, and took to potions like a natural. He laid the essay out on his desk, and frowned. No, now this wasn't what he had expected at all. A jagged, printed script filled the paper, and although the letters were angular and thin, there was a terrible neatness. No, he had expected a girly, elegant hand, flowing and curling, sliding across the page. He frowned, and began reading.

"_Although the first known application of the Itching Draught was used during the reign of Berwyn the Ninth to fend off invading Muggle tribes that continuously tried to seize the land he owned, there are much earlier references to the potion. Sources even date it as far back to the time of Gastrula, a beautiful Celtic witch who used it to defend herself from Muggle suitors and occasionally from neighbouring wizard lovers too." _Snape read her essay with wide eyes. She had clearly researched her work. He had expected most students to write about Berwyn; he himself had told Malfoy to begin there. But not even Granger usually went this in-depth. She only re-laid the textbooks like a parrot.

Obviously she had covered this topic before, Snape thought suddenly, there isn't any chance a student would have heard of _Gastrula _in passing. He carried on.

"_The Itching Draught has very few useful applications today, though it may be highly effective when applied in a prank, or joke situation. However, one useful application is to use it as a pain deterrent. Work at hospitals in France have shown that patients given the Itching Draught focused on their itches rather than on the terrible pain they were suffering from, and this was particularly effective in waiting rooms when they couldn't been seen for a long time. The itches were mild, and were merely used as a distraction."_

Snape sat back in his chair and leaned back. The whole thing; he could not fault it. She had written eloquently and with what he suspected a very real passion for Potions. Only someone who had read up on potions in their spare time, who considered it a worthy subject, would have this much detail.

She can't have written it, Snape thought, rubbing his chin, feeling stubble. It was late and he had become engrossed in the essay. But a sneaking suspicion told him she had written it, that this was so much her own work, she had put herself into it.

This just wouldn't do, Snape thought as he dimmed the lights.

***

It was a few days later when the two houses joined again for double potions. Alana had settled in, her housemates were ready to accept her; after all she was one of them now. She took the seat next to Hermione again and smiled as Ron made a joke about a dementor, a giant and a grindylow. Snape was not in the room when they walked in, but when he did come through the door suddenly, robes flapping and a face like thunder, they all fell into an awkward silence.

"I trust you all have your work ready, and your essays out students, I do not want to have a delay as we did last time." He looked angrily at Alana and she looked down. "Some of the Draughts were seriously compromised because of lack of time, although...there was little hope for Longbottom's whichever way." The Gryffindors all glared as Neville's face fell even more.

They all turned quickly to the page Snape had set and began to note their ingredients. Alana was keen to begin; working with Hermione had been interesting but she was excited to be able to prove her own merit. She was about to gather her Flickshank roots when she felt someone slam something down beside her. It was Snape and he had placed her essay on the table. "Next time," he said in a low voice close to her ear, making her shiver, "do not hand me something in that is not entirely your own work."

Alana frowned and looked at his retreating back. "But it was my own work."

The class stopped and moved slowly, trying to listen to the conversation. Alana looked angry.

"It was my own work," she repeated.

"I'm sorry Miss Cross," Snape sneered, "even though I do not know what level you are at, I assume it is not at the standard to which this essay was written. I'll admit, you very cleverly changed the words of beyond NEWT level dissertations and copied text from Potions Weekly beautifully, but it does not have a place in my class room."

"And I'm sorry, Professor Snape," Alana retorted, through gritted teeth, "But that essay was entirely my own work."

Snape stepped toward her; the class room was absolutely still with tension. "I find _that_ impossible to believe, and even if you did write it, there is a way we behave at this school Miss Cross, and it is not talking back to teachers. Ten points from Gryffindor. You may query my reasoning in your own time. That is how we do it at Hogwarts." He looked her up and down. "But...I realise I should expect this behaviour from a Beaubatons girl. I'm not surprised."

Alana stood up. "Beaubatons...behaviour! How can you punish me for my behaviour when it is you that has attacked me openly in front of the class, and accused me of lying and cheating?"

"I am the teacher, Miss Cross."

"Yes, and with all due respect, Professor Snape, although I am student, I am still a person. Being the teacher doesn't give you the right to speak to me, or anyone else in that way," Alana crossed her arms. "You have the audacity to criticise my character, my behaviour, yet you're the one who is behaving repugnantly. You're being a hypocrite!"

"Sit down, Miss Cross. Your temper is not welcome in my classroom."

"It seems," Alana said angrily, "that I am not welcome in your classroom at all. You obviously despise Beaubaton girls, which I am, _most probably_ because the teachers there had the boldness to teach young women to respect themselves, to hold themselves in some esteem, to have a bit of confidence in their ability. And that is awful for men like you who believe we should keep quiet and let people such as yourself treat us like dirt." She picked up her essay and lifted it toward Snape. "My father is a potions master! I've grown up around it, I know the history! Of course I'm not going to hold back when writing an essay. You criticise _my_ behaviour? Whatever idea you have of Beaubatons, it's a good school, where everyone I have known behaves with the utmost respect for each other and decorum, but from _you_..." she paused, seeing his furious face but carried on. "I wrote that essay, and you damn well know it."

Snape took in a deep breath and stepped forward. "Detention everyday for two weeks. And fifty points from Gryffindor," he said in a low, angry voice. There would have been a groan had anyone felt able to move.

"No," Alana said, her voice quieter but still as firm. "You can take all the points you like but I refuse to go to a single detention, let alone a fortnights worth. You brought this up. You provoked me. I fail to see why I should be punished." Alana sat down and began to peel the skin off one of the ingredients.

Snape looked at the rest of the students and glared. They slowly began to return to work.

"You will go to the detentions because by school decorum you are required to go," he hissed, moving around her to stand over her. "How dare you speak to me in this way?"

Alana said nothing.

"I see, you are silent now, now you have spoken back to me with every sense of rudeness. Your tongue is resting. You speak of respect and equality, yet you have shouted at me and behaved like a child. Like I said Miss Cross, I expected very little from a Beaubatons girl and you have proved me correct."

He walked to the front of the class, and looked at Alana's face, her cheeks flushed with anger. "You will come here at 8 o'clock. Understood?"

Alana lifted her mini scythe and brought it down harshly on to the board on which she was working.

"Understood Miss Cross," Snape said louder, and through his teeth.

"Understood," she said quietly.


	3. Human Nature

**Chapter 3 – Human Nature**

The Gryffindors had been able to say very little that could calm or comfort Alana about the argument she had with Snape. Hermione had said how well she handled herself, and Ron congratulated her. But she kept quiet all day. Her face was stormy. By eighth o'clock, Alana's face was blank as she made her way to the dungeon.

"You are late," Snape said as she walked in, his long dark hair covering his eyes as his lowered head bowed over some essays.

"I'm sorry," she merely said, sitting at a table.

Snape's head rose. "What? No retaliation now? No 'only by five minutes'? Or has something caught your tongue...Miss Cross?" He gave her a nasty smile; he was still angry from her impudence.

"What work would you like me to do?"

"The experiment you didn't do today."

"Fine."

"Excellent."

"Good."

Snape looked sideways at her as he put a book back and raised an eyebrow. She was beginning, and already worked quickly. He could see she was grinding her teeth and clenching her jaw. Every so often he stole glances at her. She had tied her long hair back once more, exposing her flushed cheeks and eyes which were blank as she tried to contain her emotions. She despised him; he could tell. Snape began to reread her essay. It had only been half an hour, when she sat down and said "I've finished."

Snape looked up at her, eyes flickering to the cauldron, and back to her defiant face. "Already?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"You can't have done it correctly."

"I assure you I have. Test it."

Snape rose and walked over to her cauldron. Her eyes were green and they stared at him intensely. Only anger was seething out at him. Snape tried not to look at her face, and took a sample of the potion.

"This is the Engorging Potion so a couple of drops should make anything at least twice as big."

"I know which potion it is."

Snape frowned at her. "Don't forget why you're here," he said in a low voice. He turned and drop a few drops of the potion upon a Knut he had pulled from his robes, and tried to conceal his wide eyes when it reacted perfectly; swelling to twice its normal size, and then once more when it was reapplied. Snape pocketed the Knut and poured the remainder of the sample back into the cauldron.

"It is impossible that you have completed this potion in half the estimated time. I have taught high level NEWT students who would take over an hour to complete this." He looked at the Knut again. "Did you cheat this time too?"

Alana gritted her teeth. "I didn't..." She composed herself. "You never specified how long it should take, and an expert _such as yourself _should know that it is better for this particular potion to have very little time on the heat as it can retain its enlargement on objects for longer then."

Snape disguised the extreme surprise and awe he felt. "Very good. Did your father teach you that too?" he said mockingly.

"Yes," Alana nodded, with a smile.

"You're above NEWT level."

"It does happen, you know. It's not impossible because I'm a woman."

"Hmmm...And I'm supposed to believe this was due to the excellent tutorage at your previous school? Were you on an advanced placement course? We're studying advanced level, which you appear to be...very far beyond." He paused. "You must see why I am doubtful."

She feigned reading the cover of the book for the first time. "What?...this is...Advanced Potions? What...I..." She dropped the act and the smile. "I was on am advanced placement course, yes. With three other students. I believe it's a combination of good schooling, my upbringing, and a genuine love for the subject." She smiled. "Isn't it possible that I could be better than someone from Hogwarts? I can't help it if you don't want to believe me. Or if I'm good."

"There is the arrogance I recognise as a Beaubaton trait."

"I'm not arrogant. I'm annoyed with you. You've punished me for something that is entirely your doing. I wish I'd never given you the essay."

"But you couldn't do that," Snape said moving behind her once more, and bending low to her ear. "Not content with being the new student and having everyone gaping at you, your ego demanded you have the teacher's full affection also. You wanted me to turn around and say what a gifted individual you are; to be special," he said quietly. "That is not in my nature, Miss Cross," he added with a sneer.

"I don't need, have ever needed, or will ever need your approval for anything, Professor."

Snape grimaced; she was very quick to respond. He had to admit, a pupil finally talking back, and not standing for his behaviour was heating his blood, his heart quickening every second.

"Technically I am right. This is not your own work."

"It is."

"But you admitted," Snape said smiling slightly, "that your father helped you."

"He didn't help me write it, which is what you're suggesting. But yes, he introduced me to the history of the Itching Draught."

"He did, did he?"

Alana crossed her arms. "Professor Snape, believe what you want but I've been able to make an Itching Draught since I was thirteen."

Snape turned quickly and looked at her. A haughty smile spread across her face at the man before her, but in her eyes he saw something very pure and very genuine. He raised an eyebrow.

"Thirteen?"

"Yes," Alana nodded. "In fact, every potion in this book," she lifted the Advanced Potions book and threw it back onto the table, "I've already made at least twice."

Snape snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

"Why are you convinced that I'm lying?"

Snape turned away and walked back to his desk. "Because, Miss Cross, without wanting to sound sexist, you're a woman...they lie...you're a human being...they also lie."

Alana shook her head in disbelief. "You have little faith in the human race Professor Snape. And in women." He glanced up and frowned.

"You may leave. But return tomorrow night. I'll have something a little more challenging lined up for you."

Alana shrugged and picked up her bag. Snape's blood rose. He found her infuriating; her obvious self confidence prickling under his skin.

Alana stopped half way out the door, and looked back at Snape who was looking down at a book already. Truthfully he wasn't reading the words on the page, he was thinking.

"Professor, I'm surprised you've not heard of my father."

"Really?"

"Most people have."

Snape looked up angrily. "Who is your father then?"

Alana smiled. "Goodnight Professor."


	4. Father and Daughter

_Disclaimer. Elementos y personajes de propiedad de J K Rowling__ (you get what i mean)_

**Chapter 4 – Father and Daughter**

The next day passed with little ease for Alana who was dreading her detention with Snape later that evening. Truth be told, he frightened her a little, no matter how bold she appeared and it irritated her that he didn't believe that she wrote the essay. It made little sense to ask Harry, Ron or Hermione about it; they didn't know her particularly well, and Alana had a feeling Hermione didn't believe her either. She kept hinting at how lucky she was to be able to pick up the subject so easily without having a tutor. Professor Snape had been absent from the top table at lunchtime, and then again at dinner, and Alana wondered if he was sick, but didn't dare hope that her detention might be cancelled.

Snape was not sick however, he was exhausted. He had spent most of the night and his spare time that day firstly thinking of something he could set that would make Alana stumble, and secondly, discover who her father was, as unimportant as that may be. Malfoy had come to see him, and found his Head of House a little out of sorts, reading three books at once and comparing ingredients.

"So she's a brain box, possibly smarter than Granger. It's not a big deal."

"No," Snape retorted, "it is. She is good at her other subjects but she knows Potions like she breathes it. She could be better than me."

"Great, now you can have a student you relate to."

"I do not wish to relate to my students, Draco. I'm here to educate them, not befriend them." He paused. "Besides, she irritates me."

Malfoy frowned. "Because she's a Gryffindor?"

"Not everything is determined by what house you are in, Draco."

"But evidently by the school you went to," chipped in another voice by the door. It was Alana.

"I'm early, but it saves me having to apologise." She sat down at her desk. "Hello, Draco," she said smiling. He nodded and looked at Snape. He recognised mild fury in the man's face. "I'll go, if you have detention to do."

No sooner had he left, Snape stood up and pulled some papers off his desk. "This is the potion you will complete."

He said nothing further and Alana had nothing further to say. As she mid to late thirties, but his unhappy demeanour made him look so. He looked very tired, Alana thought as he marked some essays. There were shadowy lines underneath his equally murky eyes. She had never seen this potion before, yet it vaguely reminded her of one her father had made three summers ago, so she took a deep breath and tried to follow the instructions carefully; the ingredients must always be exact in a potion and if it says stir three times, only stir it three times. She found that as she worked, her father's voice spoke to her. _It may seem new and unfamiliar, but they all have similarities. Try to hunt them out. _Potions had come so naturally to her, even before she began learning under her father, as his unofficial protégé. It was good to have someone to make them with; her mother was a Muggle, and didn't pretend to have any sort of skill. Yet for a non-magical person, she was better equipped in the field of potions than most, as throughout their marriage she had cut, ground and peeled her husband's ingredients, and knew what they were supposed to do. Her technical knowledge was second to none. _Colour is subjective_; Alana heard her dad chorus in her mind as the potion turned blue. The instructions said a royal blue, but this was more of a pacific. She frowned and re read the list. No, she had followed it correctly.

Snape got little work done. He was used to students having detentions, but something about Alana's presence in the room disturbed him and he could feel her intense eyes on him occasionally. She was having a little more difficulty with this one he was pleased to see. She had to keep rereading the list. He wondered if she'd figure out it was one of his own. Dumbledore had asked him earlier that day why on earth he'd decided to welcome the new student with a series of detentions and a bulk taking of points. Snape hated to annoy the wizened headmaster but as he'd explained, it was now a matter of principle. She had simply rubbed him the wrong way. No other teacher had complained though; it seems Alana Cross merely made trouble for...

Snape snapped out of his thought suddenly. _Alana Cross...CROSS? _He stood up and walked over to where she was working.

"You're father isn't Algernon Cross?" he asked.

Alana looked up from her cauldron, the last of four pairs of fly wings dropping into the simmering concoction. She paused, and then smiled meekly. "Yes, he is."

Snape frowned in disbelief. "_You're _Algernon Cross' daughter?"

"Yes."

"Your father is the..." he swallowed hard, "well, basically the leading knowledge on potion craft."

"I am aware."

Her sarcasm didn't faze Snape. "Merlin, that explains it..."

"Oh," Alana said, smiling, "you believe me _now_."

Snape snapped out of his delirium. "Just because your father is..._Algernon Cross_...doesn't give you headway to address your teachers in whatever tone you please."

"Sorry Professor."

Snape was shocked she apologised but nodded and went to sit down. He suddenly turned on his heels.

"Cross doesn't have any children."

"He does! I have an older brother too."

"I thought his wife was a barren Muggle," he asked, but on seeing Alana's horrified face, he said, "I'm…I forget...that's your mother...I'm just...I remember reading it. I apologise."

"It's ok," she said quietly. "She is a Muggle, but I don't tend to call her that out loud."

"And is she? Barren?"

"Yes, my brother and I were adopted. When we were very young. Our biological parents...died."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "How lucky, to be raised under the watchful eye of one of the world's greatest potion masters."

"It comes in useful. Yet it can count for nothing, if your teacher doesn't believe you wrote your essay."

Now Snape felt sheepish and suddenly felt remorseful but her tone enraged him once more. "I barely know you. Just because you are a new student, does not mean I will give you the benefit of the doubt."

Alana felt his anger once more and decided she would bite her tongue from now on. "I'm...sorry," she said carefully.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I apologise, for the way I've behaved. I could have been more mature, but I'm..." she paused. "It doesn't matter. I apologise."

Snape took a deep breath and nodded. "Apology accepted."

The air was cold between them, even though Alana had tried to build a bridge. Snape sat down and let her finish the potion. When she was finished, he tested it, and it was perfect of course. When she was about to leave, he looked up.

"You don't have to complete any more detentions with me over this matter, Miss Cross."

Alana nodded her thanks, and left. She supposed that was his way of apologising.

***

Snape lay in bed later that evening, a candle flickering beside his bed, and a book lay open, unread, by his hand. He was staring at the ceiling. _"I'm sorry," _she had said, her eyes sincere. Something about her low melodic voice enchanted him. She was the first student to ever apologise, earnestly, for their behaviour. She even admitted she was wrong. _"I could have been more mature, but I'm..."_ Snape wondered what she was going to say. He sighed. This was ridiculous. She was a student, and here he was obsessing about her in his bed chamber. She intrigued him. Yes, that was it. Nothing more. Snape sat up to blow the candle out.

Plunged into the darkness, he pulled the covers around him. That night he dreamt of her for the first time.

***

"You look awful."

"I slept badly," Snape said wearily, looking up at his godson.

"Really?"

"Yes," he said stacking papers, "I was plagued with awful nightmares."

Malfoy scratched his arm. "What about?"

"It doesn't matter Draco."

"I'm only asking."

"And you have your answer...don't you have some class to go to?"

Draco shrugged. "Care of Magical Creatures is hardly a class but I'll leave you to your marking...and your nightmares." The pale boy picked up his bag. "See you in double potions."

"Double potions?" Snape said with surprise.

"Yeah, later with Gryffindor...you really aren't with it today. Get a nap or something." He sighed and left his godfather alone in the dungeon.

Snape buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply. He hadn't lied when he'd said he'd had a bad night's sleep but he was not plagued with nightmares. Not really. He was plagued by the most wonderful dreams he'd ever experienced. Vivid and full of colour. The tastes felt real. Yet he didn't want to be dreaming them, and after waking himself up from them several times, Snape had decided to stay awake, for fear of closing his eyes again. Yes, they were nightmarish in one sense. In another, they were...It wouldn't be so bad if it were only the once that she had appeared, but she kept returning, filling his mind's eye. Snape tried not to succumb to reliving it; the feel or her skin, her lips on his, but every time he closed his eyes, there she was.

He disgusted himself.

He was awoken from his thoughts much to his relief moments later as his fourth year students filed into the classroom drearily. They could at least keep him occupied for now. He didn't know what he would do when it came to double potions.


	5. Remedial Potions

**Chapter 5 – Remedial Potions**

"So you sorted it out?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Alana shrugged. "I just know I don't have to do detention anymore."

"At least not for _that,_" Ron joked. "Snape gives out detentions like they're going out of fashion."

The Gryffindors, followed by the Slytherins all took their seats in the warm dungeon. Snape was looking down, and waited until they had all seated and were silent.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "The instructions are on a parchment in front of you. Consider this a timed practical, beginning now." He said nothing more.

They all looked at each other, but began nonetheless. Alana picked up her parchment, and stole a glance at Snape. The lines under his eyes were more pronounced today. Harry looked at her. "What's this all about?" he mouthed. "Your guess is as good as mine," she said back.

"Silence Potter," he called from the front, not looking up. Harry glared at the top of Snape's head and muttered 'git' under his breath.

Alana set to work, once again finding that this was not a difficult task. Hermione, whose cauldron bubbled happily beside her own, looked envious at the speed at which Alana was going. But Alana was aware of someone's eyes on her beside her friend's. She glanced behind, not thinking she would see anyone, but Draco Malfoy was staring at the back of her skull. He nearly dropped his tools when he saw her look, but then he smiled. _How strange,_ she thought_. _His grey eyes flickered towards the front, so hers followed to the figure of their teacher, hunched over, unaware, and yawning. Malfoy looked back at her. "Did your detention finish late?" he whispered very quietly. Alana shook her head, confused. Malfoy looked surprised too. "I thought it must have gone on late...my mistake."

Alana shrugged and tore herself back to the potion.

***

Snape was relieved when they left, and felt a small sense of achievement. Not once had he looked up or spoke to her. Mind you...he had not spoken to anyone else, and it was impossible to teach a class like that. He sighed. Maybe he should talk to Albus. No, he wouldn't understand. He would probably be as disgusted with Severus as he was with himself. He would just have to...get over it.

***

Weeks passed quickly and before Alana knew it, it was November. This holiday season was approaching rapidly, and she had settled here easily. Her subject teachers reported to Dumbledore that she was doing extremely well, and could be described as a well mannered young lady. Severus Snape, however, disagreed.

"She is not doing well," he said in Dumbledore's office.

"That does surprise me Severus," Dumbledore murmured, offering Snape a sweet, which was declined. "I was sure Potions was her best subject."

"It is. That is why she isn't doing well. She is far beyond her classmate's level, and is bored. I set harder work, she excels further, yet her fellow students fall behind."

"Hmmm, an interesting dilemma."

"I only fear her boredom will make her tire of the subject; a shame, when she has an obvious talent."

"And what of her behaviour?"

"Well, her being bored causes her to lose focus. She clearly understands what I'm teaching. As she has mentioned," Snape said recalling their conversation from a few months before with a smirk, "she has completed each potion in the textbook at _least _twice."

"Is she causing trouble?"

"Not recently...there was that brief incident in the beginning; we spoke..."

"Yes, yes, I remember," Dumbledore said softly. "And detention sorted her out." He sounded musical.

"Yes. She apologised," Snape said quietly.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Thank you, Severus, you may go."

Snape stood and gave a small nod, before turning to leave.

"Severus?"

"Yes, Headmaster?" he said turning to look at the wizened old man.

"Why don't you give her...private tutorage? Teach her some of your potions. She obviously does well under your guidance, and respects you, if she apologised."

"With all due respect, there isn't anything I could go through with at her..." Snape began.

Dumbledore waved a hand and closed his eyes. "Try is all we can do, Severus. If it doesn't work out, you know where my gargoyle is."

***

It was another week before she sat in his dungeon again. He had managed to completely ignore her since her arrival, an action that didn't go unnoticed by her fellow students. It was one things to be brutally picked on, that was normal; but to be ignored? It singled you out even more.

"...and I do not want anything handed in that isn't at least three scrolls long, is this understood?" The class murmured a few yes's, and went to leave. Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Cross, a word please."

She looked shocked but nodded obligingly. When everyone had left the room, she sat down again. Snape tried not to look at her; her hair was tied back from potion making still, exposing her worry that was clearly visible to him.

"Miss Cross, Dumbledore has suggested you have extra potions classes."

"Why? Am I failing?" She looked surprised. "Like remedial Potions?"

"No, far from it, no. You're beyond this level, and you're bored, so he suggested," Snape brought himself to meet his eyes, dangerous but necessary, "That I teach you beyond NEWT level potions, similar to what your father might do with you. So that you may be...stimulated...so to speak."

He stopped and looked at her expression. Her face was a picture; she looked confused.

"Yes," she said finally, "That would be really great."

"It will be here, on Saturdays."

Alana looked uncomfortable. "Beginning _this _Saturday?"

Snape looked quizzical.

"My first Hogsmeade," she said looking sheepish.

"You may go if you want," Snape replied, more coldly than he'd intended. "You know where the dungeons are if you change your mind."

***

Alana couldn't believe she had lied to her friends.

She didn't have to do this lesson today, Snape had said so himself, that it was her choice. Yet, she felt drawn to coming. The hunger to do some potions that excited her, that didn't leave her feeling like she'd just completed a puzzle meant for a six year old...it was too much temptation.

She knocked on his office door, and let herself in when she heard a reply. Snape was by a cauldron looking like a small thunderstorm. "You chose to come," he said. He had been hoping she wouldn't in some ways, but he couldn't deny the small spark of joy he felt when he'd heard her timid knock. She was out of her robes as it was weekend, as was he. In jeans and dark green top, with gold embellishments, she looked elfish. He looked away and closed his eyes, seeing a flash of her there. His dreams had not ceased even though he had tried Occlumency to shut his mind but his heart wasn't in it; his lack of will power overruled his logical mind. And they were growing far more intense by the week.

She had never seen a teacher out of robes before, and it was even stranger seeing Snape in trousers and a long sleeved top. It was plain and dark; he had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready for potion making.

"I've written your instructions down," he began, "you may ask me questions. There's no time limit."

"Ok," she said pulling her hair back. "Is it from a book?

"No," he said, hesitating. "It's...one of my own."

Alana looked at him, and picked up the parchment. "Your own."

"Yes Miss Cross, now stop wasting the day, and get on. Didn't you give up Hogsmeade for this?"

Alana smiled and asked him to pass a knife to cut the ingredients with. He slid it across the table, focusing on his own cauldron.

"You're not working on the same potion are you?" she asked, tearing the heads off some flowers.

"That is correct."

"So what is it?"

"Your next assignment."

Alana looked at him, confused. "I don't follow."

"I'm creating a new potion each week; some may be my own, or perhaps adaptations on an existing brew, all in the vain hope of creating a challenge for you."

Alana nodded. "I see. Do I get a clue?"

"Back to your daisy roots, Miss Cross."

Alana sighed and went back to her cutting board. She almost missed Snape's small smile.

***

An hour later she had finished, and was picking small chunks off a sandwich she'd made, much to Snape's disgust about eating in the potions rooms which there was bubbling concoctions around. He was still working; the mixture taking on a beautiful rich cyan now, and bubbling thickly. Alana moved around the table slowly to see it better, hoping he wouldn't notice. She swallowed the mouthful she was chewing and stood behind him.

"So," she asked after a while. "When did you think of this one?"

"The other night."

"Hmmm," she said thoughtfully, moving closer still to the man, until she was beside him. "What does it do?"

"Well, simply it..." he paused, turned suddenly, and looked down at Alana. She saw immediately he looked angry, his face devoid of colour. "You're not allowed to know until next Saturday," he managed to growl. "Sit down."

Alana looked at him. "I was curious. Brewing a new potion in front of me. It's a little tempting." She leaned forward to look in the cauldron. Her arm nudged his slightly as she strained to see. Snape stiffened.

"Alana, do not stand so close to me," he hissed coldly. Alana stepped back in surprise. Firstly, at his reaction, and secondly, he _never _called her by her first name. It was always 'Miss Cross'.

"I...I...I'm sorry, Professor," she stammered walking back to her seat. He put down what he was holding and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I apologise," he began, "I didn't mean to snap."

Alana fixed her eyes on her potion to contain herself. She couldn't explain why but she was upset; his tone had frightened her perhaps, but whatever it was she felt like she might cry and that was something she never did.

"Don't worry about it, Professor Snape," she said packing her notes into her bag.

"You're upset." It wasn't a question.

"No, not all. I just want to make it to Hogsmeade for a little while. Seeing as I'm done." Snape, unable to let himself stop her, watched her walk out of the room. He let out an audible sigh, and collapsed in a chair. Tutoring was going to be exhausting.


	6. All That Glitters

**Chapter 6 – All that Glitters**

Alana was in the library a few days later when Malfoy slid into a seat beside her.

"Alana Cross?"

"Draco Malfoy?"

"Potions help?"

Alana rolled her eyes. Since people heard she was having Advanced Potions classes, they had harassed her for private tutoring. Malfoy was no exception.

"What is it?" she sighed, casting a sideways glance from her own parchment at the blonde boy.

"The entire essay."

"You're on good terms with Professor Snape, why can't you ask for his help?"

Malfoy sighed. "I would normally," he said quietly. "But there's no point in talking to him at the moment. He's grown really sullen. More sullen than usual, anyway," he added, seeing Alana's face. "I'm worried about him actually. He's not sleeping. Keeps having these 'nightmares' but he won't tell me what."

Alana frowned. "I wonder what could keep _Snape_ from sleeping."

Malfoy shrugged. "Must be scary."

***

Saturday came around all too quickly again for both Snape and Alana. She was not looking forward to his company; his coldness towards her frightened her and if she was honest, he infuriated her. Why should she be singled out as the one student he _wouldn't_ personally attack until they were alone together? Snape dreaded her coming for another reason. She weakened him, and he hated to feel weak. Being around her was torture.

"I hope the curiosity didn't prove too much for you Miss Cross," he said as she looked at the instructions before her.

"No, I managed."

"Good. Are you well?"

"I'm fine." She paused. "Are you, Professor?"

He looked up briefly, and then continued to search through some papers. "I'm a little tired."

"Yes, Malfoy said you'd been sleeping badly."

Snape clenched his jaw. "Did he now?"

"Sorry," Alana said, trying to open a jar with the spider's legs in it. "I shouldn't pry. He said you'd suffered from nightmares. I do too, sometimes."

Snape strode over to her desk, snatched the jar she was struggling with and twisted the lid off. "I do, yes."

"What are they about?"

He paused. "I am haunted."

"By what?"

He pursed his lips slightly, debating whether to answer. "A woman. A frightening epitome of everything I fear and detest."

Alana's eyebrows rose. "A woman? Terrifying."

"She won't leave me be," Snape said coolly. "She appears when I don't want her to, and she's impossible..." He was going to say 'to resist' but he stopped himself.

"What, is she like a harpy?"

"A harpy would be simpler," Snape muttered. "And easier to dispel."

Alana looked thoughtful. "It's an odd nightmare."

"I wouldn't call it a nightmare. Sometimes I bear it." Snape cursed himself for being so honest with her.

"I don't sleep well either," Alana mumbled. "I wonder what your dream means."

Snape smirked. "Any suggestions?"

Alana shrugged. "Confront her in the dream. Have you tried that?"

Snape had to admit he hadn't; he'd always fallen prey to her suggestions. "Confront her?"

Alana smiled. "Yes. Sounds foolish really but it works. It important you do though."

"It is?"

"Otherwise she'll have control of you."

Snape's face dropped. "She _does not_ have control over me."

Alana said nothing further, fearing his angered expression and began her class work.

The potion this time was hard; complicated and well thought out, _designed _to make her stumble. A couple of times she thought she'd lost it; the colour was too bright or too dull. She bit her lip as she carried on to the final steps; she couldn't shake the feeling that he was enjoying her failure.

For another hour and a half, Alana muddled through the instructions, and when it turned the rich cyan she had seen last week, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You've finished?" Snape said, seeing her sit down, and take out a notebook. He sounded disappointed, but then reminded himself she had taken nearly two hours. It was an improvement. He frowned at his own twisted logic. Why was he willing this girl into failure?

Alana nodded and gestured to the cauldron. "Are you going to test it?" she asked nervously.

"Of course," Snape scoffed. "We don't go by colour, no matter how…perfect...it looks," he added begrudgingly. "You should know that."

Alana looked indignant but nodded as Snape collected some of her potion.

"What does this potion do exactly?" Alana asked, realising she had no idea yet. Snape put a finger to his lips. "You'll see if you don't distract me."

She silenced herself. Drawing a small thin pipette from the shelf, Snape pulled a small amount of the bright blue potion out of the vial. Looking around, he spotted Alana's pencil sharpener lying on the desk. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to it. Alana nodded with a confused expression.

Snape laid it before him and careful dropped two drops, quickly, onto the sharpener. Instantly it hissed, but as Alana looked at it again, she could clearly see it was no longer stainless steel.

"Is that..." she whispered.

"Gold, yes." Snape said, looking at it carefully in the light. "Well done, Miss Cross."

"But that's an alchemy potion. I've never done one before."

"Well," Snape said, containing a smile. "You have now."

Alana sat down. "I did that," she said looking at the pencil sharpener.

"Oh, come now Miss Cross, surely you are not surprised by your own talents." Snape couldn't suppress a smile this time. The poor girl looked pale.

"Professor, alchemy potions are very difficult. I could have made the acidic equivalent of an H-bomb. Excuse me if I'm a little proud of myself."

Snape dropped the smile and turned back to his desk. "Well, next time I shall pick something less...shocking."

Alana stood up. "Oh, no, please. I'm enjoying the challenge! I'll go mad if I have to..." she stopped realising how fanatic she sounded. Little did she know her passion had warmed Snape's heart.

"You can leave, Miss Cross."

"Thank you," Alana said gathering her things.

Snape turned his back on her, and heard her shut the latch softly as she left. Looking back into the empty dungeon, he felt alone suddenly, in his own classroom. Suddenly, he saw a glint of light on her desk. She had forgotten the sharpener in her excitement. Snape looked at it with a smirk, and then pocketed it.

***

"You have to come this time!" Hermione said, shocked. Alana had just told them she couldn't make the next Hogsmeade visit. She had continued her Saturday tutoring, and now the visit had come around again, she realised she couldn't bear to miss out Advanced Potions. She was trying new potions, by herself; even her father supervised her and hissed instructions down her neck. Yet Snape, he let her fly free. Trying new things, making up her own ideas and 'recipes'. No, she couldn't sacrifice it.

She shook her head. "These lessons are kind of compulsory," she lied.

"Do you have to complete some kind of exam in it?" Harry asked. Alana cursed inside, and then nodded. She hated lying to them, and to be truthful, she didn't really know why she lied.

***

"Professor?" Alana called out into the dark dungeon. She had arrived early, and for a moment, she panicked that Snape would not be awake yet. She shook her head; of course he would, it wasn't dawn. A movement from the other side of the room startled her; her fear was quelled by the candles around the room flickering into life, even though they remained dim. Snape was standing by the store cupboard door looking tired and angry.

"Good morning," Alana said quietly, treading her way carefully with Snape. She had learned his moods were temperamental; sometimes he spoke to her, yet often, when he was tired he could barely look at her. It made her potion work difficult. It was at these times she didn't feel like she could ask him questions.

"Good morning," he replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Bad night?" Alana tested her boundaries.

"You could say that." Snape yawned discreetly. He had spent all night tossing and turning, his recurring dream holding him captive. When he had tried to keep himself awake, he had been too exhausted to keep his eyes open, and he had slipped back into his intoxicating nightmare. He had tried to confront her in his mind; the imaginary Alana. But she had only laughed at him. What a parallel _that _girl was to the quiet girl who stood before him, trying to judge how she should act around him. He was very aware that after a particularly bad night's sleep, she would back off, as if sensing his discomfort. Her gentleness only increased his anguish.

"I'm sorry but I have to keep the lights dimmed," Snape muttered. "My head..." This was a lie. He had convinced himself that if he couldn't see her as well, maybe...but no, being in near-darkness with her was beginning to appeal to his darker desires. He closed his eyes. "I thought we'd work together today." A voice in his head was screaming _bad idea! Bad idea! _But he knew he had to conquer this. "It'll be research for the most part. A project, if you will."

"OK," Alana said nervously. He looked as if he were in pain, what little she could see of him. "What are we working on?"

"A cure for lycanthropy."

Alana must have gasped, because Snape looked at her. "Sorry, I just...well, that's pretty...innovative." She struggled to find words.

"I was...joking, Miss Cross."

"Oh," she said, feeling foolish, but then thinking that Snape's attempt at a joke was an entirely uncommon occurrence – one that she could never have been prepared for. "I see."

"That would be a little too advanced. Not even I would know where to begin." That was not true but he felt the sudden need to make himself feel less superior to her at the sight of her gloomy expression. Snape motioned for her to come towards him. Putting her bag down, she obliged.

"There are thousands of ingredients in this cupboard. It is kept under lock and key." He paused. "You may go in and pick one ingredient. Anything. That is where we'll beginning; with my ingredient and yours."

Alana kept silent but her body was practically jerking with excitement. She stepped into the cupboard which was more like a small room, very tall and longer than it had first appeared. The shelves were lined with jars of all different shapes and sizes. It reminded her of her mother's spice rack at home. It was much darker in here than in the classroom. _"Lumos"_ Alana muttered to bring light to what she was seeing. She felt Snape's presence behind her. He was looking at the shelves.

"Anything?"

"Anything you desire Miss Cross."

Alana suddenly felt strange at those words. She lowered her wand arm and closed her eyes. She felt dizzy; her mind was swimming.

"Miss Cross?"

"I'm fine," she said bending down, pretending she had meant to look at the lower shelves. "I'm fine."

It took her twenty minutes to decide but Snape didn't seem impatient. He left the store cupboard after ten minutes, unable to stand close enough to smell her. When she emerged, he saw immediately she had chosen a Quasar leaf; a rare leaf from the Andes that had many good properties. It was a wise choice. He himself had chosen a dried flower head; it was known for its healing properties and soothing aroma.

"Have you finished Miss Cross?" he asked wearily.

"Yes."

"Then we must research. What could our ingredients be used for, their properties and possible combinations."

Alana set to work straight away, helping herself to several textbooks from the bookcase. They sat in silence for over three hours; only the sound of pages turning echoed in the stone room. Alana nearly fell of her stool when the dungeon door flew open, and Malfoy bound in.

"Professor," he said. "Every flavoured bean?"

"I despise them, as you know." Snape's eyes flickered towards Alana. Malfoy looked too.

"Oh, I forgot, Brainbox Potions..." he teased, as he smoothed his blond hair back. "Do you want a bean?" Alana declined. Malfoy shrugged. "So, you didn't go to Hogsmeade then?"

Alana looked down and shook her head. Snape's eyes bore into her.

"Well, I only came to say hi, but if you're busy," Malfoy looked at Alana scribbling on a piece of paper, "then I'll come back later, Professor." Snape nodded, and sighed after Malfoy had left.

"It was a Hogsmeade weekend," he said in the empty silence.

Alana nodded.

"Why didn't you go?"

"I had to be here."

"This is not a compulsory class Miss Cross. Do not feel obliged to join me every Saturday should you have other engagements."

"I didn't. This is important to me. There'll be other visits."

"But this is the Christmas visit."

Alana looked up. "Clearly, that's a bigger deal to you than it is to me. Maybe you should have gone."

Snape smirked. "I'm merely saying you've missed out on the lights, the entertainment."

"I really don't know what I'm missing out on." Alana fiddled with her pen. "I haven't been."

Snape paused. "But you said that day..."

"I didn't go."

Snape closed his eyes. "Where did you go?"

"To my dormitory."

"To do what?"

"Why does it matter?"

Snape stood up and moved to sit opposite her. "Al...Miss Cross, I don't want you to feel like you have to be here. Go to Hogsmeade if you want. If it isn't too late."

"It is." She looked down at the book she was reading, avoiding his eyes.

Snape rolled his eyes. "When is the next one?"

"Easter."

"You're to go to that one."

"I won't want to."

"How do you know?"

"Because Potions is more important to me." She looked at him. "_This_ is more important to me."

He didn't dwell on what she meant by 'this'. "Well, what did your friends say about that?"

"I didn't tell them. I lied."

"You lied?"

"You said yourself...I'm a woman, they lie...I'm a human, they also lie."

Snape sat back. He could not figure this girl out.

"Leave Miss Cross, enjoy some of your weekend."

"What if I want to stay?"

Snape did not answer. His heart pounded in his chest _She did not mind being in his company_. "It isn't up for discussion. I am your Professor; even on weekends. I have dismissed you, so you will do as I have asked. Go now."

Alana left in a perturbed silence. Not even Snape could miss her slam of the door as she left.


	7. Sleeping Lions

**Chapter 7 – Sleeping Lions**

_He was walking down a dark corridor. Someone was calling his name gently, 'Severus, Severus', but he wasn't sure which direction it came from. He returned to his room hoping to hide from the voice, knowing the source, if not where she was. He saw her standing by his window. 'No,' he murmured, 'you shouldn't be in here'. She turned and looked at him, her intense eyes looking sad. Like a moth, he was drawn to her; though he tried to make his legs stand still, they moved unconsciously. She was wearing a night dress with thin straps. 'Severus,' she whispered. 'No, you temptress! Why are you torturing me?' he spat angrily at her. 'Why do you haunt me like this?' He heard the aching in his own voice, and saw his own hand reach out to graze her skin. She merely smiled, angering him even more. He shoved her into the wall near the wardrobe of his bedroom. 'Why won't you leave me?' he asked her, pinning her arms, half-pleading, half-threatening her. 'Severus, it is you that won't abandon me,' she answered looking frightened. _

_His face lost its anger, yet his heart wouldn't stop. Adrenaline controlled him. He tried to stutter something out but as she looked at his fingers clasped around her wrist, he leaned forward, and kissed her. He couldn't stop kissing her; with all the anger, with all the terror, with all the desire within in him. He kissed her until he thought she might break..._

Snape awoke from his dream drenched in his own sweat, and gasping for air. What had she meant? '_Severus, it is you that won't abandon me.' _He sighed and rubbed his face, trying to catch his broken breath. Her face and the image of them together were vivid in his mind; Snape lit the candle beside his bed and threw himself back into his pillow.

She was right; she controlled him, and he welcomed these dreams now.

***

In her own dormitory, Alana was wide awake. She had awoken from a dream; vivid and disturbing. She glanced over at her sleeping friends. Hermione was cuddling her pillow. Alana slipped on her night shoes, and crept past them to the common room. There was a fire there, and she was feeling icy.

She tried to stare at the embers in the hearth but flashes of her dream came back to her. She had been in the dungeons with Snape...they were...he was...she suddenly felt hot thinking about his hand on her face, and his lips on her jaw line.

To dream about someone you know…that is one thing. But a teacher? And a teacher who she spent most of her spare time with? How could she ever face him again?

Alana bit her thumbnail and tried not to think about it.


	8. Errors in Judgment

**Chapter 8 – Errors in Judgement**

"Settle down," Snape said to the Gryffindors and Slytherins. "We've a lot to do."

The class took a few moments to grow silent, but when everyone had taken their seat, Snape began. "Over the Christmas break I want you to complete two essays; the first on the applications of last week's potion, the second on the history of the Sleeping Draught. I also want you to begin your research for your NEWT project..." the class groaned, "...which counts as a large portion towards your final grade. So firstly tell me what potion you think..." He paused. "Where is Miss Cross?"

He had only just noticed her empty seat. Hermione looked at him. "She isn't here."

"I can see that Miss Granger, but where is she exactly?"

"I don't know."

"Is she unwell?"

"I don't..."

"Is she in the hospital wing?"

Hermione bit her lip. "No, sir."

"Then what possible reason could she have for missing my class?" He now looked furious and poor Hermione felt as if all his rage was being diverted towards her.

"Sir?"

He turned towards Neville who had spoken very quietly. "What is it Longbottom?" he hissed.

"She...sh...She's in the Gryffindor common room. She isn't well."

Snape stared at him.

"She told me she felt sick."

"Then why not see Madame..."

"She doesn't want to cause any fuss. And that she wasn't going to come to your lesson." The Gryffindors all looked at Neville; he was lying and acting better and faster than he had ever done before. Snape paused. For a moment, they thought he would let it lie. But he turned with a flurry of his robes, and stormed towards the door.

"I will be back shortly," he said through gritted teeth. "Make notes from the textbook. Merlin help anyone who doesn't do as I've asked!"

***

Alana thought she heard footsteps coming up the passage near the Fat Lady, but she didn't expect the portrait to fly open and a murderous Professor Snape. His eyes were narrowed and he looked as if he could kill her. She backed into the corner of the sofa she was sat on.

"Why," he hissed in low tones, "are you not in my class?"

Alana said nothing; she just stared at him, eyes wide with fear.

"Are you unwell?"

"A little, at the moment. Right now, I feel very sick," she whimpered.

Snape ignored her. "How dare you...not attend my class," he said, standing close to her and looking down at Alana, trying to make her feel small. "Did you think you could just get away with? That I wouldn't question your absence? Just because you're beyond the level of your classmates..."

"Before you go ahead and something hurtful about me, I have permission from Dumbledore to not be in class."

Snape stopped. "_What?_"

"I went to see him on Sunday; I told him I didn't feel I should go to go to ordinary potions, seeing as I was ahead. He agreed, and suggested I have an extra couple of hours tutoring instead."

"Longbottom was lying."

"Oh no," Alana cried, "I told him to say I was ill; I even acted as if I were. Don't punish him."

"I shall punish him should I see fit!" Snape paused, seething. "And when," Snape breathed, "were you going to tell me?"

Alana looked down, unable to cope with his dark eyes glaring at her. His presence presented several emotions; terror, anger and embarrassment. "I was going to tell you on Saturday."

"And did it not occur to you, _Alana_," he said, wielding her first name like a sharp sword as he stepped closer to her, "that there a five hours of potions with me before Saturday?"

Alana shook her head.

"You should have come to tell me," he said in a low voice, his anger pouring through his tone.

"Maybe," Alana whispered, trying to explain why she was avoiding him without actually telling him. "I didn't want to cause a fuss."

"Well, you have. You have caused an unnecessary disruption to a NEWT class. Just because you can complete the course with ease, doesn't mean they can. Your actions have been selfish and inconsiderate."

"You…didn't have to come here and yell at me. You're the one who left the…"

"Silence!" Alana didn't dare breathe as he shouted at her. Snape was standing inches away from her, breathing heavily, and angrily. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't speak.

"If you are to have more tutorage, we shall begin tonight, at nine." he said coldly.

Suddenly he turned away from her, and as soon as he had entered the room, he had left once more.

***

He had wanted to kiss her. Through his fury and uncontrollable rage, he had still wanted to kiss her.

Instead, he had hit her with as much venom as he could muster. All the weeks of oppressed disgust he felt about the whole thing, and himself, he took it out on her. And he had still held back.

Despite her pleas, Snape still punished Neville, calling him weak. He redirected all the frustration he felt at the class, and by the end of the two hours, the boys were angry and the girls were in tears. Snape despised himself. It was he who was weak.

***

Alana didn't dare skip tonight's impromptu lesson, though she certainly felt like it. The idea of coming face to face with him again terrified her for two reasons. Firstly, she knew he would still be thunderous. The second reason was confusing, and she couldn't quite understand it herself yet. All she knew was, that as Snape had screamed at her, all she could think about was her dream, and how close he had been to her then.

Neither of them said a word to each other when she walked into the dungeons. Her work was on the desk waiting for her. She found all her ingredients were already laid out, minimising the time she would spend getting them. Her teacher didn't look up from his work. Alana breathed a sigh of relief; she didn't want another angry exchange of words. Yet the silence was even more unsettling, and she began to feel unwell.

Snape wondered if she meant to slam her ingredients down on the desk so hard after she'd finished with them. He knew she had a temper; he had been on the receiving end. He looked up to see her looking at him with dark stormy eyes, on the brink of something.

"What is it Miss Cross?" he spat out coldly.

"Nothing," she retorted, looking back to her cauldron. Snape scowled.

An hour later, she was finished and exhausted. She picked up her school bag and headed towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Alana turned on her heels. "To bed. I'm not well, remember," she said sarcastically.

"The only thing wrong with you Miss Cross is your attitude; the potion has not been tested. You will not leave."

Alana looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Then would you mind testing it?"

Snape took a deep breath to prevent himself from walking over and striking her down. "I will test it when I am ready," he smirked. "Be seated."

She stood indignantly for a moment but then drew up a stool to sit on.

He waited. He had nowhere to be, and this seemed a fitting way to punish her. Thirty minutes went by. Alana could feel her eyelids dropping, so she propped her head up by leaning on the table.

Snape looked up five minutes later to see Alana with her eyes shut, breathing softly, her lips open partly. He thought about not waking her for a moment, but then anger took over any empathy he felt.

"Miss Cross," he said loudly getting up. "Let's test that potion shall we?"

She jolted awake, blinking quickly, disorientated as to where she was. When she realised she was in the potions room and it was about twenty to eleven, Alana frowned.

"Ok," she said quietly.

Snape looked at the potion and frowned. "Miss Cross, this potion is green."

"How observant."

Snape looked at her with a frown. "It is _supposed _to be mustard yellow."

Alana stared at him, and strode over to look at the cauldron. "_What?_"

Snape picked up the instructions. "Did you not see the instructions on the back?" he asked gesturing to the parchment in his hand. Alana snatched it from him, and scanned the front and back.

"I...I didn't see these."

"And...judging by the consistency," Snape stirred the green mixture, "you did not add the right amount of honeydew."

Alana looked upset and bewildered. "It said..." she turned it over to read the bulk of the instructions. "I...thought it said four branches."

"No, it says add four, and then add the rest. A further four." Snape looked at the potion. "I will not test this Miss Cross; for my safety and yours."

Alana stuttered. "I don't understand."

"It is simple. You were not focused on the task. You let you work be controlled and evidently be influenced by your emotions."

Alana looked up with eyes full of tears and fury. "And whose fault is that? Did you really think I would want to come to a private lesson with you, after you called me inconsiderate and selfish?" She grabbed her bag. "It's no wonder I misread the whole thing!"

Snape glared at her. "Do not...blame your actions on me."

Alana shook with rage. "Are you happy? You've managed to prove that I'm not that great. You've shown I get it wrong. You've brought me down, you've crushed me, and you've made me feel worthless. I guess I can go back to normal potions now, to save you the bother of after-hours teaching. Gosh, I'm sorry for creating such a chore for you!" She turned but Snape reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Do not try and _storm _away from me, Miss Cross."

"Let go of me," Alana said through blurry eyes. Snape looked thunderstruck.

"Understand this. I have never wished failure upon you. I do not resent teaching you after normal school hours. It is not a chore."

"You act like it is."

"I have never..."

"...you didn't want to do these lessons. Dumbledore told me you were 'reluctant'. That was the exact word he used."

"He is incorrect. Why would I agree to more?"

"To punish me!"

"Why would I want to that? You sound completely irrational."

Alana tried to pull her wrist away but he held it there, in midair. "You hate me."

Snape looked startled. "What gave you that idea?"

"The way you look at me, the way you treat me. You pick on everyone, even Draco sometimes. But me, me you ignore in public. And then, when no one is around, you treat me like some kind of sub human! I'm not allowed to stand too near, and you act strangely around me..." She stopped because Snape was frowning at her.

Alana sighed. "I may be adopted, but I'm still a pure-blood. My biological parents were both from a long line of pure blood wizards and witches. Is that what the issue is?"

"No!" Snape shouted, looking surprised she even asked. "You are being ridiculous, Alana," he murmured.

Alana looked away and sighed again.

They stood for a few moments until Snape realised he still had his fingers clasped around her wrist. He dropped it like it was something hot, and looked at the potion. "You're tired Miss Cross, I suggest you go to bed."

Alana looked up at him with her mouth open. "Unbelievable," she said through gritted teeth, before slamming the door to the dungeon. Snape was sure he heard, quiet sobs echoing down the corridor.

He looked at the ceiling and sighed deeply. Of course she would notice his frostiness. How could he think she would not? It was obvious. Snape looked at the potion bubbling in front of him. That should have been easy for her. What had he done to her?


	9. The Proposition Before Christmas

_**A/N: As you may have guessed, dear readers, this was a story I had written many eons ago but finally decided to share which is why the quality is varied and how I'm uploading the chapters so quick!. Chapters have been edited more recently and some were written closer to the present too so slightly mixed. I hope you're enjoying it and don't forget to review because we all know how nice it is when you open up the webpage…oh and there it is…some reviews for all your time and effort. *smiles***_

_**Also to my good friend Twannee…see if you can spot the curtsey to your friendship within this chapter – if not, I will tell you. **_

_**Happy reading! RdF**_

**Chapter 9 – The Proposition Before Christmas**

Saturday once again came around faster than both Snape and Alana desired. Their previous study evenings were short and had passed in silence, but Saturday meant a whole day in the company of each other, and neither saw this as bearable. However, Alana needed to finish her NEWT project, as the rest of her classmates had completed it within the lessons she had not been attending, and now, she was doing less hours during the week. Saturday was the best day to catch up, and get further ahead.

Alana arrived early, in the vain hope she could make a start and establish her presence before Snape arrived, but it was locked, which surprised her, and she was forced to wait for him to open it, his dark, cold figure barely acknowledging her as he turned the large metal key in the lock.

She started her research in silence, taking the books she needed and making notes without a single word. She was desperate to concentrate on her project, after the failure of her potion had played on her mind. She had told no one about the potion, nor about the argument she'd had with Snape, nor the fact that he had grabbed her wrist. She tried to think of that least of all. Time moved slowly and it was barely midday when Alana stretched and pulled out another book. Her research was coming along well; she'd picked a good topic and it excited her. She had meant to write to her father about it, but her parents had written to say they were going on holiday back to France to finalise some of the paperwork of the move. Her mother, who hated to apparate, had insisted they fly, so when her husband had turned up with broomsticks on the morning they were meant to leave for the airport, she was less than impressed. Alana had to admit, in the middle of all this...trouble...with Snape, the letter had lifted her spirits.

Snape left the room briefly, and returned with some lunch for her, which he put beside her without a word before returning to his desk.

"Thank you," was all she said, but she didn't take a bite. Twenty minutes later, Snape looked up from his marking.

"Miss Cross, eat your lunch." Alana looked at the plate, and then to his face, which was blank and emotionless. "Sorry," she mumbled pulling the plate towards her. "I was stuck in my research."

He didn't reply.

It was past dinner time when Alana yawned and began to close her books. She had achieved a great deal today, and had almost forgotten Snape was even there. He stood when she began to pack away.

"Do you think you'll be ready to do your preliminary potion next Saturday?" he said without looking at her.

"I'll be ready for the next lesson," Alana replied. Snape looked up. "Tuesday?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. My research is done."

"Then leave it with me, I will go over it." He put a hand out to take the parchment without looking. Alana stepped forward and handed it to him.

"I won't question the authenticity of this one Miss Cross, seeing as I witnessed the note-taking." It took Alana a few seconds to realise he was trying to be funny. Was he trying to build a bridge between them?

"Well, just in case," Alana said with a smile, "I _assure_ you it is all my own work."

Snape nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "You may go."

"Thank you."

She had only been gone a few seconds when Snape realised something. "Al...Miss Cross?" he called out into the corridor. She turned, surprised.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Tuesday is Christmas Eve."

"What's your point?"

Snape crossed his arms. "Surely you'll want to go to the big feast."

"NEWTs first, fun later," she said with a weak smile, turning her back on him and walking away. "I'll be there at seven." She paused. "That is, unless you're going to the feast? I wouldn't want to keep you."

Snape stared after her and could help but smile a little.

***

Christmas, Alana came to realise, was a grand affair at Hogwarts. On the Sunday morning she awoke to find the room richly decorated, with reds and gold's and greens; holly and mistletoe hanging elegantly like leafy chandeliers. The hall had all but been taken over by a giant Christmas tree, covered in small white lights and golden bows. Even the teachers were in the Christmas spirit. The large teacher who was all hair and a loud mouth was wearing a strange flower brooch; almost like a corsage, crafted from holly, berries and tinsel.

Hermione said something over breakfast about the feast, but Alana kept quiet. Her friends, as understanding as they were, did not understand her passion for potions, and they hated Snape. They saw her extra classes, which then became her normal classes, as her being a prisoner.

"He never lets you out," Ron had said grumpily. "Especially not if it is a Hogsmeade weekend."

Alana had chosen not to tell them that Snape had urged her to go both times, and was forcing her to go this coming trip as well, which was in February not at Easter. Still, after missing two trips, she was looking forward to finally seeing the wizarding village. They would understand her decision to stay with the potions teacher even stranger, repulsive even. Especially Harry.

***

It was Christmas Eve and Alana couldn't believe it was snowing. They always had white Christmases at Beaubatons but like the school, the snow seemed dainty and neat. This snow was thick, hard, and more beautiful than she could describe. It fell in a blinding torrent and further isolated Hogwarts from the world. When it finally finished, all that you could see was thick, unbroken, glorious snow for miles around. Alana sighed and made her way to the dungeons.

"Where are you going Cross?"

She turned and saw a tall, pale haired boy running toward her. Draco. He pretended to be serious, but broke into a grin.

"Why aren't you going to the feast?"

"Potions exam. Mock."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "No way."

"Way. Its part of my NEWT; preliminary data." She smiled. "I don't think it'll take long."

He stared at her then smiled again. "Well, you're missing out."

"I know."

"Is Snape...?" Malfoy lowered his voice, "is he ok do you think?"

"How should I know, he barely speaks to me." She couldn't contain the edge of bitterness in her tone. "Why?"

"Well, he's just...sort of...stopped speaking. But his door is only two away from the dormitory, and as I was coming out last week," he looked sheepish at seeing her expression, "Don't look at me like that, there was a girl, Sarah...anyway, why am I telling you that...Snape's room is near the door, so when I came out I heard him talking in his sleep, mumbling."

"What was he saying?"

"Nothing audible really. Just 'no, no, no' mainly. It wasn't what he was saying; it was how he was saying it. He sounded distressed. The next day," Malfoy shrugged. "He looked like he hadn't slept a wink."

Alana frowned. "I wonder. That dream again...?"

"What dream?"

"The one he was getting a while ago. The one where a woman was haunting him."

Malfoy looked shocked. "He never told me that!"

It was Alana's turn to look surprised. "He didn't? But he tells you everything."

"Not _these _days. He's so secretive." Malfoy checked his watch. "Anyway, don't want to miss the feast."

Alana nodded at his retreating back and continued to the potions room.

***

"_You hate me."_

Alana's words had echoed in Snape's mind since she'd uttered them. He did not hate her in the slightest but the feeling that she thought he did bothered him greatly. His sleep had changed; the dream became a twisted nightmare in which she was running from him, crying, and when he tried to tell her he didn't, she struggled and pushed him away. He couldn't decide which was worse. But being kind to her, proving that he didn't hate her, did not come easily; because the warmer he was, the closer she became to him, and he could not stand to be close to her either. For his sake, he could not be close to her. Snape understood the boundaries; it was one thing to dream about it, it was another to act on it.

She was late and looked thoughtful when she arrived. She made some apology about stopping and speaking to Draco, but it washed over Snape. It was impossible to look at her without feeling a surge of something both pleasant and unpleasant; urges he couldn't control, so he saw it fitting to just ignore her. It was difficult; she was a naturally warm person, and when she wasn't angry at him, she couldn't help but make conversation. His monosyllabic answers must infuriate her. Snape struggled to not smile at the thought.

She began working right away; her obvious passion for the potion of her choice coming across by the way she took greater care when measuring and mixing it. She couldn't contain the sparkle in her eyes. Snape smiled to himself. She genuinely did love Potions.

A timer went off an hour later, but Alana had since finished and was finalising her notes. Snape looked up. "Within time, Miss Cross," he said blankly, though he hoped she could hear the praise meant.

She nodded and beamed. "I think it went well," she said quietly. "I've even tested it."

"Then you can go to the feast," Snape muttered looking back at his book. Alana looked at him; his dark hair hanging in his cold eyes. He had gone back to being completely impassive with her, and she could decide whether she'd rather he was angry. She sighed.

"Actually," she yawned. "I'm a little tired, I'll skip the feast."

Snape nodded, barely looking up. "Thursday then."

Alana smiled, although he didn't see it. "Have a good Christmas Professor."

She was about to leave when Snape sat back and put his hands in his pockets. "I almost forgot Miss Cross; the Potion Master's Guild is having their annual 'convention' in February."

"They are?" Alana looked wide eyed.

"Yes. Your name…" he sat forward, "has been mentioned to them. You've received a formal invite."

Alana looked shocked and then smiled. "Who mentioned me?" she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"The headmaster," Snape said, looking away. Alana raised an eyebrow.

"Am I allowed to go?"

"It's not me you have to ask, though you will need an accompanying adult, and I too have received an invite." Snape felt sick at the idea.

"Well," she said, smiling, "I'll speak to Dumbledore."

"Very well." He paused. "Your father will be there, I'm sure?"

"I don't know," Alana mused. "He _has_ gone before, but he really doesn't like it. He's not very fond of being centre of attention, or large crowds. Mum sometimes makes him though. He puts on a good show about it but," she sighed, "I really don't know. I'll send an owl."

Snape shrugged. "I was merely curious, Miss Cross."

Alana mirrored his shrug, but then got a nagging feeling. "When in February is it?"

"The 13th."

Alana closed her eyes and sighed. "Right. Figures I guess."

Snape looked up confused. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all. It's just that's the next Hogsmeade visit."

Snape groaned internally. He had said she must go to the next one. "Well, of course you must go."

"Oh no," Alana cried. "I know what I have to do. The convention is much more important."

"Miss Cross, I will not see you give it up again for Potions."

She crossed her arms. "Well, it's my choice."

"Aren't you a little disappointed?"

Alana unfolded her arms and looked at her fingers. "Well, a little."

Snape sighed. For his sake, partly, he wanted to tell her not to come to the convention. But it was really an opportunity that anyone serious about potions shouldn't miss. "It's your choice," he said, repeating her. "I can't pretend I'm not glad that you are taking a more _mature _outlook."

"I only told you so you wouldn't get angry with me when I told you I wasn't going to Hogsmeade."

"I wouldn't get angry."

"Yes, you would."

Snape bit his tongue and turned away from her. Of course, she was perfectly right. "Go to the feast, Miss Cross."

Alana nodded and left him.

***

Dumbledore listened carefully to Alana as she explained about the Potion's Guild. She talked quietly, and he noted a difference in her countenance and attitude from when they had first spoke. Then she had seemed outspoken, bold, but still a nice girl. Now she was serious, and mature. He still found her remarkably pleasant however. She smiled warmly at him for most of her pitch.

"So you see; it really is a good opportunity for me."

"Yes, yes of course," Dumbledore said softly, his hand on his cheek. "Hogsmeade weekend isn't it?"

Alana nodded. "I believe so."

"Hmmm, well if Professor Snape is happy to accompany you, then you can have permission to leave the castle. As I understand, it's only one night away."

Alana grinned. "That's brilliant. Thank you Headmaster."

"Alana, it is a pleasure."

She picked up her bag and went to leave his strange, golden, whirling office. The orange bird who had sat obediently the whole time she had been seated watched her retreating back. Suddenly, she turned when almost out the door and said, "You…didn't mention me to the Guild, did you?"

Dumbledore looked puzzled and then smiled gently. "No, Alana, I'm sorry. I did not. I can't say the Potion Master's Guild and I have a lot of contact."

Alana frowned but gave him a small smile. "No, I thought not. Thank you."

***

Five minutes after Alana Cross had left; Dumbledore heard another knock at the door to his office. He was very surprised to see Severus Snape standing at the end of the room.

"Ah, Severus," he chuckled, "we need to talk about your February outing."

"Yes," Snape nodded, the same sick feeling returning at the realisation he _must _go. "Yes, but there was something else I hoped to discuss with you."


	10. A Strange Gift

**Chapter 10 – A Strange Gift**

Christmas Day ended quickly, much to everyone's disgust. Alana had experienced many Christmases at Beaubaton's but she had never felt as happy and as comfortable as she did at Hogwarts. She woke to the sound of squeals; the girls all had presents at the end of their beds. Alana had not gone home for Christmas; she never did. She was shocked to see the pile of neatly wrapped gifts, lavishly decorated with ribbons and bows. At her last school, you had to collect your gifts from the Owlery; a smart place, pristine and dainty, but there was something about Hogwarts and Christmas that made it seem…well, _magical._ Alana smiled warmly at everyone, and clambered over her sheets to start unwrapping.

Her parents ever practical but ever eccentric had bought her an essential potioneer's kit, and a jewelled knife. Alana grimaced and found immediately, she hated it. There was something not in concordance with the knife and the way she felt. Four months ago, she would have loved it. But now, she felt it attracted too much attention; it was gaudy. She did not know whether it was her father or mother's idea; perhaps they felt she needed something a little more personal and 'grownup'. But Alana had grown accustomed to the oak handled knife she used in the dungeons, and this felt like an impostor in her hand. Tucking it away into its pouch, she instantly felt a sense of extreme guilt.

Harry had bought her some sweets, as had Ron. Hermione had been as practical as her parents; a diary that told her when her homework was due in. Alana wasn't ashamed to show how much she loved this gift, seeing as she was always forgetting and having to run back to the common room. A few relatives had sent money, and her aunt on her mother's side, who was aware that they were wizards and witches, had sent her clothes. There was a large, soft parcel from Ron's parents who sent a polite card saying they had not met her but Ron had mentioned her, that they hoped to meet her soon, and enclosed was a traditional Weasley present. She pulled out a woollen sweater; hand knitted, and saw Hermione had one too. Hers was a dark blue with a large emerald green A on it.

"It's a bit Slytherin," one girl in the dorm commented.

"Don't mind that," Hermione said pulling her own jumper on; a pink one with a yellow H. "I think it'll suit you."

An hour later they were all in the Great Hall, enjoying breakfast. All the Weasley's and Harry had their sweaters on, so Alana didn't feel out of place. Draco passed her on the way to the Slytherin table, and mentioned something about giving her his gift another time, and remarking that she should sit with them on their table, as he eyed her jumper. Alana smiled, and apologised for not getting him anything. He shrugged and strode off, ruffling Crabbe's hair as he sat down.

Alana felt awful; having not gone to Hogsmeade, she had not been able to buy anyone anything, yet they'd all bought her something. She kept apologising throughout the day.

"Don't worry about it; we'll blame Snape," Harry said, taking another sausage.

Alana looked at the top table where the teachers sat and saw Snape smiling briefly at a joke Flitwick had got from a magical cracker.

She shook her head. "It's not his fault," she mumbled, but everyone had moved on.

The rest of the day was spent eating, having snowball fights, and playing cards. Hermione taught Alana how to play wizard chess, but soon regretted it after she beat most of the Gryffindor's who challenged her. When Alana finally got into bed that evening, her stomach full and her body truly exhausted, she couldn't help but think about Snape and what had he got for Christmas?

***

Boxing Day was a less jovial affair, with most people still full from the day before, and using their free time just to relax. Alana, however, had potions that evening and spent most of the day writing up her potion work for Snape.

"He works you hard," Ron observed. "I never realised he was such a slave driver. Git maybe," the ginger boy observed with a wicked grin, "but not a slave driver."

Alana shook her head and carried on.

That evening Alana headed for the dungeons. She was sleepy and the dim lights of the castle didn't help. She was dreading sitting in the dark potion's room. The thought of it sent a wave of lethargy over her. Alana didn't want to fall asleep in front of Snape again. Most of her house had gone to bed early, reserving any homework they had for another day. When Alana had left, Hermione and most of the girls were in their nightclothes yawning.

"Hello, Professor," she said quietly. "Good Christm…"she began to ask, but she had just spotted Snape standing, leaning against a desk with a jacket slung over his folded arms. He didn't look angry, but he didn't look happy either.

"What's going on?" she asked warily.

"We're going out, Miss Cross." He said it without any inflection in his voice.

"We are?"

"To Hogsmeade."

Alana looked shocked. "Why?"

"You will not give up the convention for your visit, so it has been arranged so that you can go to the village this evening."

"But there'll be other trips after that one surely…"

"Which no doubt you'll worm your way out of to," Snape interrupted. "No arguments, Miss Cross."

Alana stared at him open mouthed. "I…didn't bring a coat," she stammered.

Snape pulled out his wand and whispered something. A coat appeared on the desk beside her, with a hat and a pair of gloves too. She sighed and put them on.

"Ok," she mumbled. "Let's go."

Alana had never been in a more bizarre situation. It was pitch black outside, and snowing gently. Most of the lights in the parts of the castle where the dorms were had been put out. She walked alongside Snape, who, in his dark clothes, could have all but disappeared into the midnight sky. She tried to keep pace, but he walked quickly. Sensing her falling behind, he slowed a little and looked down at her. She could feel nose growing colder, but at least her hands and ears were warm.

"I didn't get you a scarf, Miss Cross," Snape said quietly. He flicked his wand again and handed her a green scarf. She murmured her thanks.

"Will there be many people around?" she asked after a while.

Snape stiffened as he walked. Was she embarrassed? "I should think not," he said coldly, colder than the air at least. "I'm afraid Honeydukes won't be open, or the prank shop."

"That's ok; I wasn't really interested in either. I really just wanted to _see_ the village."

Snape looked at her with a sideways glance. She was cold; her nose and cheeks turning pink. It had been foolish to walk perhaps, but it hadn't been snowing this badly when they'd left. "It isn't far," he said, quietly, almost so she couldn't hear him.

A couple of times, Alana tripped on holes in the ground that were covered by the thick snow, but Snape, whose reactions were very quick, caught her arm before she so much as got a wet knee. After each fall, he let go of her again quickly, acting frostier than the snow.

When they reached Hogsmeade, there were a few couples walking around, and one crowd of local wizards who had been to The Hogs Head. Snape barely looked at them, but stopped in the middle of the village, by a lantern, and turned to her.

"This is Hogsmeade," he said blankly.

"I'd guessed."

"Would you like to stay with me, or look around yourself?" Snape didn't look at her as he said it, fearing her answer.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just have a little wander…" she started. Snape nodded. "Stay in the village."

Alana headed off down the street without him, the pressure of his unpredictable behaviour lifting with every step. She sighed. This was not how she'd pictured her first Hogsmeade trip. Out with Snape? She bit her lip.

***

Snape waited for her to walk off to almost being out of sight before he began to follow her. Of course he couldn't really let her explore the village by herself in the dead of night. The locals were cooperative towards Hogwarts students during the day but at night, students were not expected to be here. He had promised Dumbledore he would watch her, yet he wanted her to experience a little freedom.

He had a gift for walking unheard. Snape's natural aptitude for stealth was not something he was proud of but it did come in handy. It was almost awkward tailing a student and as he followed her, he felt echoes of his reoccurring dream where he followed her to his room. He tried not to think about it, shaking his head as if he could shake the thought away. She was quite far ahead of him, looking at all the different shops with genuine wonder. Snape realised she was turning the corner towards the clearing where the Shrieking Sack could be seen. He picked up his pace, the snow crunching under his shoes with urgency. She shouldn't leave the lights of the village.

Alana was enjoying her stroll; she felt warmer and the village was pretty at night. It didn't have the beauty of Hogwarts but it did have a quaint charm. She wanted to see the Shrieking Shack which was supposed to be haunted, but she didn't know where to look, so she kept walking aimlessly, hoping she would reach it. Alana looked in the windows of all the shops she passed. The shop that was Honeydukes was obvious due to the thousands of sweets she could see, but couldn't count. She wondered where Snape was. Probably glad to be having a break she thought.

Turning the corner she saw there were no street lamps. Alana thought about turning back but further down she saw a clearing, and a fence and she wondered if the Shrieking Shack was nearby. Doing her coat up a bit further, she carried on walking, away from the village and through a small pathway covered by overgrown plants.

She was right; beyond the clearing which was bordered by a fence, was an ancient hut built upon an unstable looking hill surrounded by jagged rocks. The clearing was illuminated by moonlight and Alana realised that it had stopped snowing. In fact, it was very still here. She felt a sense of peace as she leaned on the fencing looking out at the shack. The forest was right next to her, but she didn't think she should walk off into that.

A crunch of snow beneath someone's feet startled her, and she spun round. A man stood about five metres away from her, very still. He was smiling, a strange smile that reached his eyes and made them look frightening. His hair was long and strand like. Alana put her hand in her pocket where her wand was and forced her own small smile onto her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"You look lost, missy," he slurred into the night. He had obviously been drinking.

"No, I know exactly where I am thank you," she said, trying to sound bold. She didn't dare try to walk away but knew that somehow she would have to get back to the village and find Snape.

"Let me help you get back," he said grinning, stepping closer. Alana instinctively backed into the fence.

"I'm really fine," she said, her voice sounding painfully sing song. "I have a friend who'll be here in a moment."

He cocked his head as he walked towards her. "You're a pretty little one aren't you," he whispered. "What are you doing away from Hogwarts?"

She didn't say anything.

"Yeah, you're very pretty," he murmured looking her body up and down, now half a metre from her. His eyes rested on her chest. "Let me help you into the forest, eh, Miss?"

Alana was about to pull her own wand out but she heard the sound of running to her left and looked. It all happened too quickly for her attacker, who heard the sound also, and looked as she turned, but was too slow to react as a furious voice bellowed "STUPEFY!" and a bolt of intense red shot from the bushes at his chest. With a choked sound, he flew backwards from the force of the spell. Professor Snape came running down from the surrounding trees, close to the village, his face more thunderous than Alana had ever seen before. She sank to the ground, frightened of him, but she realised he was not looking at her. He strode over to the man, who was now scrappling to his feet, looking terrified. Snape levelled with him and shoved his wand angrily against the man's throat.

"What do you think you were doing?" he uttered in harsh, low tones, the venom pouring out with every syllable.

"I wasn't…I wouldn't…I'm sorry," the man stuttered, no longer intoxicated having been sobered completely by Snape's entrance.

"If I ever," Snape said through gritted teeth, driving the wand into the man's throat a little, "_ever_, see or hear you speak to another young woman, I will _kill_ you."

"It's not like that…" the man started but Snape pushed him back to the snow.

"You were going to take advantage of her, weren't you?"

"I…"

"WEREN'T YOU?"

"Yes! Yes, I was!"

Snape stood over him menacingly and hissed his words out. "You disgust me. I suppose after being rejected by every other normal warm blooded female, you _have_ to take what you want. Preying on young women. Well, that ceases _now_." The wind was starting up again.

"Leave. And remember what I said," Snape crouched down towards the man. "I would not hesitate to kill you," he muttered in a low growl. The man made a noise like a whimper. Snape stood and held out his wand threateningly, but the man moved quickly and ran back to the village.

Alana realised she had barely taken a breath since seeing Snape stun the man. He now stood very still in the darkness. She could hear her own heart thudding in her ears. She closed her eyes and let the cool air calm her.

"Miss Cross," his voice said softly, startling her. He was now stood over her, his dark eyes looking down on her frightened figure. His hand was out to help her up. She took it and realised she was shaking slightly. His hands were large and strong, and he pulled her from the wet ground easily. For a second they were too close, but he let go of her hand and turned to look back at the village. She tried not to look at his face.

"I told you to stay in the village," he said after some time, in a low, quiet voice. Alana couldn't tell if he was angry with her or not.

"I'm sorry," she started but before she could stop herself, she began to cry. Snape looked at her shocked, and took his hands out of his pockets, unsure of what to say or do. He tried to contain his horrified expression, but Alana pushed past him and ran back to the village. He had no choice but to run after her.

"Alana!" he called out, attracting strange looks from the other people in Hogsmeade. She was much faster than him. He eventually caught up with her; she was perched on a rock on the outskirts of the village. He understood why she'd stopped. The direction she had come from, the bright lights of the village stopped abruptly here, and it was difficult to see Hogwarts. She needed him. She was afraid.

"Alana," he said bending down. She had stopped crying, and looked blank. Snape wondered if she'd gone into some sort of shock.

"Can we go now, please?" she said a few moments later, in a clear, hollow voice.

"Yes, we better had."

The walk back was even more awkward than the walk to Hogsmeade, with neither really knowing what to say one another. It was a different kind of silence; Alana didn't speak for fear of crying the shame was so strong. When they finally did make it back, Alana took off her gloves, hat and scarf, handed them to him without a word, and headed towards the Gryffindor cloakroom.

***

Alana crept across the dorm and got under the sheets of her four poster bed. It was warm, and after the iciness of the cold winter's night, she finally began to feel like her bones were warm too. Alana sniffed.

She tried to close her eyes, but she kept seeing the man standing, inches from her, and then…Snape…his angry face, coming to her rescue, saving her from whatever the man might have done. She swallowed hard. She was stupid to wander off the path. Really stupid. But thank goodness Snape had been following her; if he hadn't of been...Alana sighed. Thinking about Snape caused her heart to beat faster, until she thought it would come out of her chest. She hadn't been sure before, but now, now she knew what had happened.

If she hadn't been in love with Snape before, she was sure she was now.


	11. Insight

**Chapter 11 - Insight**

When Alana walked in to the dungeons on the following Saturday, Snape immediately sat up. Her face was stormy, she looked tired, and she hadn't greeted him. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out her textbooks and notepad with aggression and within minutes was scribbling away, her hair cascading onto the pad as she leant on her free arm. Snape frowned a little, but decided to leave her. He would wait for her to speak.

But she didn't. For another hour, she stayed silent; only sniffing a couple of times, and coughing. Snape began to worry. Had the other night traumatised her? She had been pretty upset and he'd just let her go to bed. He cursed himself, and decided to try to speak to her.

"Miss Cross?" he said. She looked up with despondent eyes.

"Yes, Professor?" Her face was so hostile that he almost stopped in his tracks.

"I think we need to talk."

"If this is about Hogsmeade," she began. "I don't want to talk about it."

Snape stood up and walked over to her desk, sitting opposite her. "Not the bulk of it, but I will have to mention Hogsmeade."

She sighed and shut her books.

Snape swallowed. "I owe you an apology."

Alana raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"For the past few months, I have behaved…awfully. Alana," he used her first name, hoping she would pick up on his sincerity, "you once accused me of hating you, and while I couldn't convince you otherwise, I don't. I have behaved that way, I'll admit. But…" he paused, "I'm not accustomed to spending alone time with students. Especially not female students." Alana blushed, and looked down. "I have behaved in the only way I know how, and at times I realise have embarrassed you, upset you, punished you, and though there were occasions when I was right, there were many where I was out of line."

Alana said nothing, but gave a small cough.

"I think that if we are going to carry on working together, or even go away together, there needs to be some changes. I will try not to be so cold with you," Snape gave a weak smile, that she didn't see, "but you need to understand, it is in my nature."

"It's in my nature to be a little…hot tempered," Alana said finally.

"Hmmm, I had noticed." Snape smirked, which made Alana roll her eyes.

"The fact if the matter is," Snape paused, wondering how to put into words how he felt. He was attracted to Alana, very much so, but she was his student. It also wasn't her fault that he had tried to avoid her, and that he had been so cold.

"Friends," Alana said quietly, bringing Snape out of his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"We need to learn to be friends."

Snape thought for a moment. Friends? Was a friend too close?

"Good acquaintances," he suggested. Alana smiled.

He rose from his chair. "Still, there should be some level of respect. I asked you not to stray from the path the other night for your own safety. And without wanting to sound smug, I was right. Sadly." He looked grim, but then sniffed. "More honesty, more respect for instructions and no talking back," he added sternly, without a hint of mockery. Alana swallowed. "Of course not. But I assume it works both ways right?"

Only when he had turned around did he smile.

***

Weeks passed and things remained amicable between the pair. Snape had always enjoyed her company, when he'd allowed himself to, but with the boundaries clear in his mind he felt freer to talk to her. The one thing that remained unchanged was his dream, though it had eased a little. He had decided it was simply a case of accepting it.

Alana, however, was in a state of utter confusion. It didn't matter how open and calm she appeared in the surface, going to her potions class became a bigger deal; on a Saturday she worried what she looked like, what they could possibly talk about and the biggest worry of all, how could she endure being alone with him? While Snape grew accustomed to his dreams, Alana's grew more intense, and varied. She could not grow used to them. The impending date of their trip was looming also.

"Good evening, Miss Cross," Snape said in a low voice. "I trust you're well?"

"Hmmm," she said nodding. It wasn't really an answer. "You?"

"Fine."

He handed her a book, with a slip of paper making the potion he wanted her to complete. It was one that could be completed in two sessions; it needed a few days to mature before the final ingredients could be added. Alana relished these advanced potions, she could really throw herself into them, and they were difficult enough to almost entirely occupy her thoughts. "Begin as soon as you're ready to," Snape said, "but I will need to ask you some questions while you work."

Alana nodded, and began straight away. Snape went to his desk and pulled out a piece of paper from his drawer. She could see it was some kind of form.

"Right, full name?" Snape said sitting down with a long quill.

"Sorry?"

"Your full name. For the consent form. I have to get it to the committee as soon as possible."

"Oh." Alana grimaced. "Alana...Beatrice Cross."

Snape looked up to see why she was in discomfort.

"I know, I know, ABC." Alana looked angry. "It's actually my grandmother's name on my mother's side but my father found it _hilarious_." She tore her dandelion heads off aggressively. Snape smiled to himself, but Alana caught it on his lips before they turned down again.

"Don't you dare laugh," she hissed. "What's _your_ middle name?"

Snape suddenly looked serious. "That is not important, or relevant to your form," he said changing the subject. "Date of birth?"

"13th December 1990."

Snape frowned. "You didn't mention it."

"I hate my birthday."

"Very well. I'm not particularly surprised at that. Any allergies or health problems?"

Alana laughed. "Insomnia," she muttered, bitterly, "Oh, and I can't eat lettuce."

"Lettuce."

"Yes, in large quantities. It makes my mouth dry and itchy and my lips swell up. The same thing happens with cucumber," Alana said quickly not meeting his eyes.

"Miss Cross, you continue to astound me; you have a decidedly Muggle middle name, you hate the one day of the year where you become centre of attention and you're allergic to salad. Essentially."

"Are you making fun of me?" Alana lifted her knife threateningly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I was merely observing,"

"I can eat tomato," she added.

"I am so glad to hear it."

"I just don't like them."

"Shall I just write salad in the food allergies box?"

Alana shook her head and frowned at him. "Now I _know _you're making fun of me. No, a small amount of salad is ok. I don't know why I even mentioned it."

Snape nodded and continued to ask questions for another hour.

"Favourite colour?"

"That is not on there."

"Yes it is," Snape said, without looking at her.

"Why would they need to know...?"

"Answer the question."

"Blue," Alana sighed, smiling weakly. Snape noted it down.

"The last thing is parent's names and contact."

Alana hesitated. "Algernon Cross and Mary Cross. They don't...like unnecessary Owls."

"I'll still need an emergency contact. In case you get in any sort of...accident."

Alana sighed and gave him the address that her parents now lived at; a house she hadn't seen yet.

Snape nodded and put the form inside an envelope, which he would send later. He looked at Alana, who was nearly finished and suddenly though to ask her something.

"Were you adopted from birth?" he asked.

Alana looked at him sharply. "Yes, why?"

"You said they chose your middle name."

"Oh, yes, well, they chose my entire name. I was...abandoned after my parents death and they found me."

Snape swallowed. "I see." He thought it best to drop the matter as she looked upset and her eyes were staring intently at the potion before her.

"Where will we be staying?" she asked as she packed her things away half an hour later.

"Most of the places nearby were fully booked, and anywhere that wasn't," Snape replied, raising an eyebrow, "wasn't worth staying at. I have an old school friend who has let us use two rooms in their house. He often rents them out."

Alana nodded. "Exciting."

"Quite."

She bid him goodnight, and closed the dungeon door quietly as she left.

***

It was the night before they were supposed to leave, and the Gryffindors were not happy. Having caught Alana discreetly trying to pack, they had demanded to know what was going on.

"Staying away from Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"On a Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron moaned.

"With _Snape_?" Harry hissed.

"Yes, yes and...yes." She tried not to think about Harry's last point too much. "There's a potions thing...Dumbledore gave it the ok."

Harry threw his hands up in the air.

"When were you going to mention it?" Hermione asked.

Alana looked up from her suitcase. "I was just going to be sick. And stay in the hospital wing."

Ron snorted. "Well, at least you're honest."

"Look, I'm really sorry guys. I realise how weird this whole situation is, believe me," she stressed, thinking about being alone with Snape again, "but this is a really big opportunity for me."

"Whatever," Harry said, shrugging but clearly annoyed. "It's your choice."


	12. Dangerous

**Chapter 12 - Dangerous**

Alana wasn't sure why she felt so nervous about going away with only Snape; she was, after all, used to spending a few hours in his presence about three times a week. But then, she was able to leave, to go back to her room; Snape would be there, _all day_. And at night. However, their uneasy friendship was going well and she didn't feel _entirely _uncomfortable in his presence; it might not be so bad after all, she thought as she headed to the dungeons.

He didn't say much as she came in, only gave her a small smile and let her carry on with the potion. After maturing for a two days it was bold fuchsia and smelt strongly of ginger. Alana picked up her tools, her ingredients and set straight to work.

Snape looked up to see Alana cutting something. "Are you all packed?"

Alana nodded, looking up with a smile

He smirked and couldn't resist an opportunity to tease her. "It's supposed to snow over the weekend, so I suggest you wear that tasteful blue and green sweater that you wore at Christmas."

"What?" Alana said, looking up, surprised.

"Ow!"

Snape looked up to see Alana backing away from the cauldron holding her hand. She was cussing under her breath. He rose, and walked quickly to the table.

"What is it?"

"I cut myself." She nodded towards the knife on the table. "I wasn't looking and I slipped."

"Let me see," he commanded, taking her hand. Alana winced as she let go of her fingers, and blood trickled down onto the stone floor. Snape frowned. She had cut from her index finger across the back, all the way to her ring finger.

"It's deep but it hasn't got the bone."

Alana swallowed, trying to ignore the rich smell of iron. Snape conjured a towel for her to hold on the wound. "You're bleeding a lot. You had better get to the hospital wing..."

Alana shook her head quickly. "No, no, no hospital wing. Absolutely not."

Snape stared at her. "Miss Cross, you're bleeding."

"No, I can't go."

"Then Madam Pomfrey will have to come here..." he started, letting go of her hand to go to the door, but she grabbed the cuff of his sleeve, smearing it with fresh blood.

"No! No...Don't get her."

"Miss Cross," he said, on the verge of being angry.

"Please," she said, half pleading, "Can't you treat it? It's not that bad. I really can't go near the hospital wing."

Snape stared at her bewildered.

"Miss Cross, I don't have any medical training. Madame Pomfrey will know what's ..."

"It's not that bad; really, I just bleed heavily. Even when I get a paper cut."

He looked at her eyes which were full of begging. She looked worried, frightened. Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Do you have a fear of hospitals?" he asked.

Alana looked away. "Yes, a little. Now, are you going to sort this out or not? Seeing as it was kind of your fault."

"My fault? I...". He suddenly saw her weak smile.

"You're joking," he said blankly, taking her hand once more and removing the towel.

"Well, half joking. You _did_ distract me."

"You shouldn't be so easily distracted by me," he retorted without looking. "Lack of control was the cause of this." Alana swallowed hard.

Snape frowned. "I think I can just bandage it up. But it'll heal normally. I only know basic healing spells and this looks much more serious. If you saw Madame Pomfrey, it'd be gone in minutes..."

Alana glared at him.

"Ok, I'm sure there was a Muggle first aid kit in the cupboard." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin knows I may have thrown it out."

Minutes later, Alana was wincing as he cleaned the wound with a strange, foul smelling antiseptic. It wasn't as deep as he'd first thought but it was red and angry, and she didn't lie when she said she bled a lot.

"I think the best I can do is bandage them. I'm not sure I can stitch the wound. If it even needs that."

Alana just nodded and looked away. Her cut felt hot, and was throbbing from the sting of the antiseptic; Snape's fingers were cold and brought a mild relief.

Snape frowned the whole time. Alana's eyes fell to the cuff of his white shirt where her own blood was drying in a violent burgundy. She didn't know whether he had noticed but she didn't feel able to speak.

"So," he said finally taking a bandage from a packet. "When did you become afraid of all forms of medicine?" His tone was musing, and Alana could see a small sparkle in his eyes.

"This isn't funny."

"I never suggested it was."

Alana frowned. "Well, I went to a hospital with my father when I was very young, about five I think, and it was...just...a really awful experience for me. I didn't like it; it smelt of death and people were watching their loved ones get sicker and sicker, and I hated it. It got worse when I had an accident...with a broom...and I woke up in La Coeur de Sacre in France. The doctor was...vile."

She gave a small shudder that she didn't think Snape had noticed, but as he was wrapping her hand, he felt it. He paused, but then continued winding the bandage around her fingers.

"It's not bleeding now; it isn't too tight is it?" he asked as he started to tie it.

"No, it's fine."

"Then it's finished," he said weakly. They both looked down at her fingers; the startling white of the cloth against her red fingernails. Snape wiped them with the cotton wool he'd been using to clean the wound.

"There," he murmured, running his thumb gently along the top her wound. Alana froze, holding her breath, which Snape also felt. He let go of her hand quickly and rose.

"You should rest; we need to leave early tomorrow, remember." His voice was cold and harsh; familiar to Alana's ears. It was the tone he had spoken to her with before their trip to Hogsmeade. She hated it.

"Fine, thank you," she clipped back, being careful not to bash her hand as she grabbed her things.

The potion was left, uncompleted.

***

Alana winced as she stepped into the common room. Her hand hurt; it was throbbing madly now and she was sure as she'd flexed it coming up the stairs, the wound had ripped open. Blood was the last thing she needed. Hermione was still awake when she got back, and gasped when she told her about her hand, and scolded her for not going to the hospital wing. Alana shrugged, and told her she didn't think it was that bad, and Snape had done a pretty good job. Hermione eyed her up.

"Don't you feel weird going with Snape? Alone?" she whispered, even though everyone was asleep.

"Majorly," Alana admitted.

"I mean, won't it be awkward. He's always so nasty."

"Oh no," Alana whispered, "That's not a problem. He's actually...nice...to me. Occasionally." She paused. "The problem is just...being alone with him."

Hermione looked at her. "Do you..."

"Oh!" Alana looked shocked. "No! Of course not."

Hermione smiled. "I always thought he kind of had the whole brooding teacher thing going for him."

"I guess..."

"Not that I'd mention it to the guys. Especially not Harry," she added.

"Well, even if I did...you know...he's a teacher. That's weird, right?"

"Hmmm," Hermione mused, "but we won't always be students."

Alana frowned at her, and made Hermione giggle. She rose and yawned. "I'm kidding. People get so shocked when I say things like that. I'm off to bed. You coming?"

Alana nodded. "In a few minutes."

When Hermione had gone up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, Alana looked down at her fingers. It had been nice hadn't it, she thought, to have him holding her hand, if not only to sort a wound out. And what of him brushing his thumb on her hand? At the time it had felt like an affectionate gesture, but afterwards, the coldness, she had felt like it were her fault somehow.

***

Snape finished packing before he allowed himself, weary and emotionally drained, to crawl into bed. He had felt optimistic about the trip, but now, now he felt like it would be suicide. A few brief days of functioning around her, being able to joke, and be fairly kind, all gone in a few seconds. Fool that he was! He had let go of himself for a moment; she was hurting and in need, and although he hadn't meant to...touching her skin was like euphoria. _And _it had felt natural. Seeing her blood spilling on the floor had tore through him. And her story about her phobia; she broke through him in so many ways, on so many levels.

She was dangerous.

Snape tried to shut his eyes but he knew what was coming. His dream waited for him.


	13. Algernon Cross

**Chapter 13 – Algernon Cross**

"We're apparating, right?"

"Of course. You have taken your exam?" Snape tried not to look at her. He had slept awfully, the dark purple lines under his eyes evidence of that, and the top she was wearing shaped the contours of her body beautifully. He felt sick.

"Of course," she said mimicking him. He tried to give a weak smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Could she tell that he didn't really want to be here anymore?

"You'll have to tell me where we're going to though," she added, "because I can't apparate there otherwise."

For a brief moment, Snape considered telling her one place, while he went another, but his conscience took over. "Of course I'll tell you," he snapped. "Don't be impatient."

Alana sighed. He was in that kind of mood.

They were outside the grounds of Hogwarts. It was necessary for them to be to apparate but it was also early morning and they didn't want their departure to awake anyone. It was cold, as Snape had predicted, but Alana didn't know if it was going to snow. The sky showed signs of it though; great grey clouds hung about them, shutting out any light. Dawn was only just beginning. Alana pulled out a scarf from her bag, the green one from the Hogsmeade trip, and wrapped it around her neck. Snape breathed a sigh of relief; at least he couldn't see her slender neck. That would ease today a little.

"Are you ready?" he said finally coming to as stop. Alana looked back at the castle, which was quite far away. "Yes," she said quietly, wondering if it was really such a good idea to go. "Yes, I'm ready."

"We are going to Malfoy Manor," he said, still not meeting her eyes, and cursing himself for being so weak. "Understood?"

Alana nodded. "Malfoy Manor? As in..."

"As in Draco, my godson; it's his father's house," he muttered impatiently. "Shall we go?"

"Yes!" Alana said, snapping at him now. She didn't feel tolerant today. Her hand hurt badly after she'd slept on it, even though Hermione had changed the bandages.

Snape took hold of his suitcase, waiting for her to do the same. Alana picked up her bag and glared at him.

Seconds later they appeared with a _pop_ in the foyer of a house. It was almost as grand as Hogwarts but not as big, nor as ancient as the old castle. There was something very medieval about Malfoy Manor; the tapestries that hung around the room, the wooden floor, the flickering candles. Alana gazed around with wide eyes. Snape merely scanned for Lucius.

"Ah, Severus, you're early," sang a melodic, low voice. It came from the top of the stairs. Alana turned to see a tall man, with long blonde hair the same shade as his son's walking down to greet them. He was around the same age as Snape, and very handsome, Alana noticed, with cold grey eyes. Draco had similar eyes. She wondered what his mother must look like, seeing as he looked so much like his father. When he reached the bottom, he shook Snape's hand warmly. "Hello old friend."

"Hello Lucius. This is..."

"You must be the lovely Miss Alana Cross," he interrupted, smiling at her and extending a hand. "I'm Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. My son has told me so much about you; a fact he no doubt wanted to remain undisclosed."

Alana blushed but shook his hand warmly. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

He laughed. "No need for formalities," he mused. "Wherever did you find this one Severus? I don't remember any other Hogwarts pupil being this polite!"

"She's a Beaubaton girl at heart," Snape said blankly. "Am I right Miss Cross?"

Alana put her bag down. "I don't know," she said, turning to look at him, "Hogwarts has grown on me."

Lucius laughed loudly. "Grown on you indeed! And why shouldn't it? It's the finest wizarding school in the country. Mind you," he added, talking on an aside to Alana, "I suppose the thing you have seen the most of in Hogwarts is Professor Snape, and that may not sway you_ towards _the school."

"Lucius," Snape warned. His friend smiled at him and nodded. "Of course, I'm being rude. He is your teacher after all."

Alana nodded and looked at Snape, whose face was still as sullen as it was when they had left.

"I suppose you'll want to leave your things in your rooms and..."

"And go." Snape said shortly.

"Of course," Lucius said graciously. "Miss. Cross, your room is up the stairs on the fair left. Do you think you can find it?"

"I'm sure..."

"You had better get your house elf to take her; Miss Cross has a habit of wandering from trails."

Snape cut in, looking at her coolly. Lucius' eyes flitted to Alana who looked thunderous, and was glaring at Snape.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. Lucius was sure her heard her muttering 'just the one time' as she followed Dobby up the stairs to her room. He looked back at his friend.

"Severus," he tutted. "You do pick on her."

Severus gave him a threatening look. "We are staying in your house. But it doesn't give you the prerogative to interfere in Hogwarts or its teaching methods."

Lucius smiled. "I was merely making an observation."

"Well," Snape said looking at his watch. "Don't."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I know you well Severus. Something is bothering you."

"Yes," Snape admitted, looking up the stairs for Alana. "You."

Alana came down the stairs a few moments later, but on seeing Snape's face, she frowned. "Sorry, I had to use the bathroom."

Snape met her glare. "It's time to go."

"Bye, Mr. Malfoy," Alana said, "it was nice to meet you."

"You'll see each other later, now it is time to leave," Snape interrupted handing her a piece of paper with an address on it. They left Lucius musing in the great foyer.

***

The Potion Master's Guild convention was hectic, and as she apparated into the busy room, Alana was met with a thousand comforting and smoky smells. She immediately felt lost; there will hundreds of people around her. She looked around for Snape, to see him less than thirty centimetres from her. He looked down at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes not really meeting the concern he was trying to show with his question.

"Fine," she said bluntly.

They moved on, fighting their way through the crowd to find something that made sense. Half way through struggling, Snape grabbed her, making her jump, and handed her a piece of paper. "Here's your pass in case we get separated."

Alana felt a sudden pang of worry about being separated from the one person she knew in London. "I don't plan on letting you out of my sight," she said, hoping her worry didn't show through her voice. Snape looked at her, frowning. "Just…stay close," he murmured.

It took them twenty minutes to find the hall in which the majority of the convention was being held, and even then it took five more minutes to find somewhere to sit. A short fat wizard had seen Alana and Snape looking around frantically, and waved them over to two empty seats beside him. Alana went to sit on the outside of the row but Snape shook his head and she moved next to the enthusiastic wizard and let Snape sit on the outside. She threw a glare at her teacher and sat down haughtily. His mood swings were driving her to despair.

"It's exciting isn't it!" cried the little man on her left.

"Hmmm," nodded Alana.

"Is is your first time?"

"Yes," Alana replied. "You've obviously been before."

"My fifteenth year!" He twisted in his seat to look at Snape, who had his arms crossed. "Have you been before sir?"

Snape looked at him with a blank face. "No."

"_Two_ first timers! Boy, are you in for a treat!"

Alana smiled at his infectious enthusiasm. It was warm and welcomed after the hostility from Snape. She soon found herself talking with the short wizard easily. As soon as she said that they had come from Hogwarts, he began speaking very quickly.

"I went to Hogwarts! Mind you," he laughed, "must have been way before your time. I shouldn't think you were even a twinkle in your father's eye. I was a Hufflepuff of course," he said sitting upright, looking proud. "Let me guess...Ravenclaw?"

Alana laughed. "No, I'm not. People in Ravenclaw are very smart and conscientious; I'm afraid, I'm rather clumsy."

He grinned. "You must be a Gryffindor. I should have seen it before, sorry!"

Alana shook her head. "It's ok..."

"And what about your boyfriend?"

Alana froze; she hoped he hadn't heard but he tensed beside her and turned slowly to the wizard, who was waiting for her to answer. She began to stutter a reply.

"I am not," Snape said in a low voice, over the top of her, "her _boyfriend._"

Alana shook her head. "No, definitely not."

The man stopped, sensing the enmity coming from Snape. He tried to laugh it off. "My mistake, my mistake! You looked as though you came together, and I assumed..."

"You assumed incorrectly. I am her school teacher." Snape turned away, looking straight ahead.

"Oh, right you are..." the man looked uncomfortable now. He raised his eyebrows at Alana, who was trying to look apologetic. "Sorry," she whispered. He shook his head and gave her a smile, before turning to another wizard beside him.

"And you," Snape said suddenly, in a quiet voice, "should have made it clear when you first began speaking to him that this was a school visit, and that you were a student."

Alana looked at him with disbelief. "So this is my fault?" she hissed. "He made a mistake! You didn't have to bite his head off. Anyway, he hardly gave me a chance to correct him." She crossed her arms and sat back in her seat. "You know, you're really hacking me off."

Snape turned his head to reprimand her for speaking to him in that way, but the lights of the hall dimmed and an announcer overhead began to speak in a booming voice.

"Ladies and gentleman, witches and wizards...welcome to the thirty first annual Potion Master's Guild gathering!" A cheer erupted around Alana. Snape remained still. "And to open the convention we've gathered some of the finest potioneers from across the globe! So please, put your hands together for nine time Cauldron Award winner Finch Stradley, the owner of the chain of wizarding shops "Bubble and Squeak" Bette Bubbles, and our special _surprise _guest," the announcer paused for dramatic effect, "Algernon Cross!"

Alana stiffened and felt as if her lungs had got caught in her throat. Snape looked surprised and turned to her. "You didn't know..." he asked quietly.

"No, no, he never said." She paused. "Did you?"

"The announcer said _surprise _guest..."

"Ok, ok," she snapped, interrupting him. She stopped in her tracks when the guests arrived in stage; sure enough, there was her father, smiling and waving to the crowd. Alana began to bite her thumb nail but Snape lowered her arm gently. Alana looked at him but he was staring ahead once more.

"Don't bite your nails" he whispered curtly, and then, in a gentler tone, "It'll be ok. He's your father."

And there he was, on stage in wonderful Technicolor. He was wearing his favourite shirt; Alana had bought it for him for his birthday when she was about thirteen, and it was becoming a bit of a squeeze. Her mother had tried to get him to eat more healthily but she wasn't aware of the stash of chocolate frogs he kept in his potion's room. He looked bigger, older and more tired than when Alana had last seen him, but his smile was the same; wide and wicked.

"Algernon Cross," Snape murmured.

"Yeah, alright," Alana muttered in reply, going to bite her nails again.

"Miss Cross, if you don't want me to hold your hands then I suggest you stop biting your fingernails."

Alana sighed and lowered her hands. "When I'm nervous..." she offered as some way of an explanation. Snape nodded. "I understand," he said although he was sure he didn't.

The announcer was now on stage, in bright coloured robes talking with a wand pressed to his voice box. He was motioning for silence. "Well, all our guests will be talking for today only, and tomorrow you can take part in some of the fabulous workshops that are available. But first a quick word from Mr. Stradley, Ms. Bubble, and Mr. Cross!"

The three guests raised their wands to their throats also. The tall blonde wizard spoke first, his forty-something eyes twinkling. "I think I speak for all the potioneers here when I say how excited and thankful I am to be here today." There was another cheer. "I can't believe it's the thirty-first annual convention."

"Me neither," chipped in the woman, who had a thick gravelly voice. She was dressed in dark purple robes, in a shimmery fabric like velvet. Her long grey hair was tied in a high bun, messy and frayed. "I'm so excited to meet all the younger people involved in the world of Potions. I hope we can fuel their passion, since they are the _next_ thirty one years of potions."

"I agree," piped up Alana's father, and the room erupted at his voice. "My daughter is the next generation, and we need to lay down a foundation for them to build on." Alana sank down in her seat, and Snape swallowed hard. "Nobody knows you're his daughter but me," he reminded her.

"That doesn't make it any less...embarrassing," Alana whispered.

Algernon coughed loudly but then smiled. "Thank you guests, but I think we've talked long enough. Let's begin the show!"

***

The next forty minutes was a dazzling display of the effects of potions. Alana almost forgot her discomfort; awe overtook that feeling as she stared open mouthed at the flashes, the smoke, and the bangs. Snape too was astounded at the display.

"It's amazing isn't it?" said the small wizard to Alana's left. She nodded dumbly. He laughed.

***

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked as they moved away from a table selling scales.

Alana hadn't really noticed but she was starving. Her stomach rumbled quietly. "I guess so," she admitted. They began to move through the crowd again to find somewhere to eat; there were little places to eat near the hall but there were stalls further out. Alana looked around.

"Miss Cross, you're biting your nails again."

Alana dropped her hand and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Professor." She had been careful to say 'professor' a lot, so people knew nothing untoward was going on, but she couldn't restrain herself from saying it in a deliberately mocking tone. She didn't want a repeat of this morning's trouble.

Snape regarded her for a moment before sitting down. "Are you expecting to see him?"

"No," Alana admitted. "I'm just keeping an eye out."

"Why are you nervous about seeing your father?"

"I'm not! It's just...well, it's been a while..."

Snape frowned. "Surely that would be a cause for a reunion?"

Alana sat down beside Snape. "He doesn't know I'm doing extra tutoring. He doesn't know I'm here."

Snape paused. "Would he disagree with it?"

Alana shook her head. "No but he's a bit funny about me bettering myself. I know," she said seeing Snape's face. "It's really odd."

"He's...holding you back."

Alana paused for a second. "In a way. Yes, that's a good way of putting it."

Neither of them said anything for a moment before Alana looked down and said softly, "The only thing he and I talk about is Potions. He can't connect to me on any other level. He doesn't try. Yet when I get better at it, try to make him proud, he acts like he barely cares."

Snape listened; Alana's hair had fallen from behind her ear to create a dark curtain between her face and the rest of the world. He was tempted to sweep it back, and he despised himself for it.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said with a weak laugh. "You probably don't want to hear it. I'm crossing the boundaries aren't I?"

Before Snape could answer, there was a laugh from in front of them. They both looked up to see a familiar face, followed by a gaggle of people. It was Alana's father. She went to raise her hand to her mouth but Snape batted down.

"Dad," she managed to say, meeting him in an embrace, people pointing at them.

"Alana, what are you doing here?" her father mused. His face was round and open but his eyes were a piercing blue that echoed sharpness and cold clarity. "You're supposed to be at school."

"I'm on a school trip; this is my teacher, Dad."

Algernon Cross turned to face Snape as if noticing him for the first time. He was a large man in comparison to those around him, and the air he carried with him made him seem grandiose. His icy eyes swept over Snape. Finally, he broke into a smile.

"Algernon Cross," he said putting out a hand.

"Severus Snape." He took Alana's father's hand and shook it firmly for a few seconds.

"Where's the rest of your class then," Mr. Cross said looking around, ignoring the people trying to talk to him. "I want to meet some of the friend's your mother tells me you've made."

"I'm here alone Dad..."

"Alone?"

Alana looked flustered for a moment under her father's knowing gaze. Snape saw her distress and cut in.

"Alana is an advanced potions student Mr. Cross. She has private tutorage and is studying potions way beyond NEWT level."

Mr. Cross looked blank for a moment, but then smiled. "I see," he murmured. "You didn't mention it."

"It's not a big deal."

"No, I guess not," he said scratching his head. "Learnt most of it from me, of course."

Alana looked awkward.

"So, you're teaching her Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, I teach Potions at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Algernon surveyed him once more. "Well, I have to move on sweetie, I hope you're enjoying your day. "I'll tell your mother I saw you."

"Thanks Dad," Alana said weakly, "Oh and thanks for the Christmas gifts."

Mr. Cross waved a hand. "Not a trouble, not a trouble." He pecked her on the cheek and gave her one last squeeze, but Snape coughed loudly.

"Your daughter, Mr. Cross, is truly an exceptional student. I haven't seen anyone else walk through the doors of Hogwarts with her talent." Alana's father looked uncomfortable. "I just thought you ought to know."

Algernon Cross cleared his throat. "Well, like I said, I taught her a lot as she grew up."

Snape smiled. "She completed an alchemy potion only a few months ago. Did you teach her that, Mr. Cross?"

Alana was too stunned to move. Her father's eyes flickered to her face. "Really? An alchemy potion. Alone?"

Snape nodded. "I'll take that as a no."

Mr. Cross looked sick for a second, but then beamed wildly and began o step away. "Well, keep up the good work. Upholding the Cross name, eh, sweetie? Just like her old man!" He disappeared into the crowd swiftly.

Alana sat back down. The sigh of relief was clearly visible.

"Miss Cross," Snape began but she waved a hand.

"Don't," she said, without looking at him, "Don't even ask."


	14. Affirmation

**Chapter 14 - Affirmation**

Lucius looked up from his paper in time to see his young guest walking quickly up the stairs, her face a brief picture of complete angst. He raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch. They were a _little_ early back, certainly earlier than expected but...he folded his paper, and went to greet Severus.

"Good day?" he asked politely as Snape hung a jacket on the coat stand.

"Very interesting," Snape said, his face matching his grave tone.

"And Miss Cross..." Lucius said looking up the stairs to where she had gone, "did she enjoy herself?"

"I'm not sure Lucius, you'd have to ask." He paused. "I don't think she did. We...ran into her father."

"Algernon Cross?" Lucius lowered his voice. "The potions legend?"

"The very same."

"You spoke with him."

"Shook his hand."

Lucius made a low whistle and sighed. "What was the problem? Surely she'd be glad to see her father."

Snape looked away. "That would have been my assumption."

Lucius went to say something but was interrupted by the sound of Alana stepping on the creaking step of the staircase. Both men looked at her, and she suddenly looked sheepish and apologetic.

"You must be hungry Miss Cross," Lucius said smiling at her warmly, "or are you tired?"

"Both," she admitted smiling weakly. "It's been a long day."

Lucius turned to Snape but his face was blank.

"Well, dinner will be here shortly, I should think. Then you're free to do as you please." He smiled again. "Would you like to see the library?"

Alana grinned wildly. "Most definitely."

***

Snape swallowed hard as he watched them walk away. How easily Lucius could speak to her, to move around her at ease. He felt sick with envy as he watched the man gently, for a second, place his hand on the small of her back to usher her through the door at the end of the corridor. Snape did not feel as if he could touch her. Of course he could not, he reminded himself.

The only thing that was more frustrating than being so close to her was her reaction to her father today. Snape thought of it as he went to his room, which was opposite hers. He couldn't fathom it. She had always spoken highly of her father, and praised him, yet when face to face, she seemed nervous and awkward. The only thing he could conclude, he mused, pulling of his jumper and pulling a fresh one over his head, was that she was anxious about being out with him. But surely, explaining to her father that he was a teacher wasn't, _hadn't_ been so difficult.

Maybe her parents were the kind to have boundaries about being alone with men, Snape considered. It would be easier on him if they were.

***

Lucius frowned. Severus barely said two words over dinner, and if he did break his oath of silence it was to criticize Alana. She looked thunderous on occasions and he wondered if she would curse him then and there, before returning back to her meal, but she bit her tongue bravely and focused on their conversation. She had been amazed at the library, and was surprised to see that he kept most of the Muggle classics. "Admittedly, that collection is a little sparse. But you have to hand it to them, they know how to write a good story," he'd remarked. She'd laughed but had caught her professor's eye and began frowning again. It seemed impossible to lift the mood when they were both together.

However, he had known Severus for a very long time. He couldn't fail to notice his old friend's glances at her, and the glares when Alana laughed at something Lucius had said. He found the entire situation very odd. He must speak to Snape.

Alana tried to stifle and yawn, as she shook her head at being offered anything else. "No," she said softly, "Thank you. I'm very tired; I think I'll go to bed. Another...long...day tomorrow." Lucius couldn't help but hear the bitter tone, and see the brief flicker of her eyes towards Snape, who wasn't looking.

As soon as she had left the room, Lucius turned in his seat to look at his guest. Snape looked up from his fingers, which he had been carefully examining sullenly, and frowned.

"What?" he asked.

"You and I need to talk." Snape looked blank. "Let's move through to the study," Lucius said rising from his chair. Snape dumbly followed him, and sat down in the soft armchair opposite the desk of the study. "What is it Lucius?" he asked languidly, as if bored.

"I think," Lucius said quietly, shutting the oak door softly behind him, "you know." He flicked his wrist as he said down, conjuring to glasses of dark brown liquid. "Fire whisky," he offered, and Snape took it from the air.

Lucius paused and took a sip. "What is your problem with that poor girl?"

Snape made a face. "I don't have a problem with her. And she isn't a 'poor girl'. I wish you'd stop cooing over her."

"I'm being hospitable. Which is more than I've witnessed in your behaviour over the last few hours."

"She is a student. I am maintaining a professional boundary. You are free to be as warm to her as you like."

"Oh no," Lucius said shaking his head, "No, it's more than that. I've seen your professional boundaries with your students. You're mean, cold, but Alana...either you absolutely despise her or..."

"Or what?" Snape hissed.

"I don't know, Severus. You explain it to me. Because for the life of me, old friend, I cannot work it out."

Snape sat up in the chair and took a sip of his drink. A few moments later he sat forward and put his head in his hands. Lucius heard him make a small sound halfway between a groan and a cry.

"What is it?" Lucius asked softly. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Snape looked up at him. "I'm in love with her."

Lucius sat back and kept quiet. He raised an eyebrow. "Genuinely?" he said softly.

Snape nodded. "Irrevocably."

Lucius let out a low gasp. "Merlin." He paused. "It isn't just a..."

"A fanciful attraction? Unfortunately not."

Lucius drew a sharp breath. "Merlin," he said again. "But I just thought...when did...what makes her different?"

Snape closed his eyes. Lucius shook his head. "I'm sorry, too many questions?"

Snape looked at him and shook his head weakly. "No, no, you have to understand. I've had months of keeping my feelings a secret and now, to have just said it like that..." He sighed. "My head is spinning."

Lucius nodded. "Just begin where you want."

Snape leant back and looked at the ceiling. "It began with a dream. I dreamt about her. I _dream _about her. Constantly. The same thing over and over."

"Severus..."

"No, not like that. Well, not at first. She taunts me, and I try to fight it and it's...quite intoxicating."

"I see," Lucius mused. "Haunting, yet..."

"Beautiful."

There was a silence for a few moments until Lucius said, "Continue. I'm sure there is more."

"Well, she intrigued me. She was brilliant at potions yet I didn't believe her work was her own. We fought, but she held her own. In front of a roomful of students, Lucius. She made me look ridiculous. So, I punished her." He raised an eyebrow at his friend's face. "I set her detentions, Lucius. She was furious. I think she hated me. But, it was her potions work that I was astounded at. That and the fact she was unlike any other student I'd known. I tried desperately to be kind, but it was too difficult. I couldn't control myself. I was dangerous. So I distanced myself. I ridiculed her, punished her, made her feel small, victimised her...I truly have been awful towards her. But being that way was easier than...it was better to be cold and for her to hate me, as painful as _that_ was, than to be warmer and for her to like me, and for her to draw close. I can't handle her being too close. Besides the fact she is a student, she is much younger than me and..."

"You know that if it did work out, you couldn't bear to lose her."

Snape looked up at his friend who had sat quietly and listened. "I doubt she's even considered it Lucius."

"I think you're less aware of Miss. Cross' feelings than you think."

"I don't understand."

"I think your feelings..." Lucius paused. "May be reciprocated."

Snape snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

Lucius rose from his seat, flicked his wrist once more and stared at his friend. "True, you have behaved like brute. And I've seen very little. I dread to think what you have really been like. But I suggest you soften your approach. I know you are capable of it. I watched her closely, and she was infuriated by some of the things you said. But she was mostly hurt, and it was a deeper hurt than when a teacher is a little too harsh to a student." Snape kept silent and looked at his feet. "When we were talking, I forget where you were," Lucius moved around to sit on the desk, "She told me how awful you'd been at the convention, with the short wizard?" Snape groaned. "Yes, well, she then told me how you kept her calm when her father appeared, how you stood up for her and told him how well she was doing, how you stopped her from biting her nails..." Lucius watched his friend's expression carefully. "And something to do with her being stupid and you rescuing her..."

"I wouldn't say I rescued her," Snape interjected, "I only did what any man would have done."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I don't know the situation. But she spoke about you with warmth, Severus."

Snape rose. "I can't...hear anymore. It's all irrelevant anyway," he gave a weak smile, suddenly looked grave. "She'll be gone soon anyway. School year is nearly over."

Lucius put his hand on Snape's shoulder. "And that's the worst part isn't it? Not seeing her."

Snape said nothing, and let himself out of the study quietly.

***

_She had been running, franctically, staring back at the person who pursued her and although he was barely sprinting, his stride gained on her every second. It was all in slow motion; the sound of his voice speaking a curse and her body jerking as it was hit. She tripped on something and fell, pain jutting through her limbs and torso. She lay panting on the floor the sound of his footsteps thudding closer._

_He was stood above her and in a blink he had lowered himself to her, holding her arms to the ground, his strong legs barely exerting any force to keep her where she lay. Truth be told, his eyes could have held her there. Piercing and mesmerizing as they were, staring at her with something halfway between hatred and desire. She felt the rise and fall of her chest in sharp, jagged motions. He had disarmed her._

"_Please," she tried to say; her voice raspy from her running.. But he was silent; he merely scrutinized her face._

_She could feel the lines of his body pressing against hers, and his deep shallow breaths on her own chest. She suddenly tried to pull free, though she didn't feel afraid. His grip was relentless and like a rock as she struggled. She tried pleading again but he only smiled at her._

Alana awoke from her dream, panting; her breath was as harsh and as jagged as if she had really been held down. It was the third time she had been wrenched from sleep by her 'nightmare' and she was beginning to become wary of falling asleep. She saw no sense in trying again; instead, she pulled on a cardigan over her pyjamas and made her way to the library. She was sure Mr. Malfoy wouldn't mind her reading, should she be caught.

***

Snape wasn't asleep. His mind was alive with his confession, and the realisation that she was only a few metres away from him, across the landing. It was because he was awake that he heard her soft footprints and the low cuss word as she trod on the creak in the stairs. Sitting upright, Snape listened hard. Why was she out of bed? For a moment he was angry, like her teacher; in the next breath he was fretting over whether or not to follow. He lay back down, willing himself to stay in bed, away from her. She probably needed a drink. She did not need him to go after her.


	15. Persuasion

**Chapter 15 – Persuasion **

She had her back to him when he opened the door to the library, her long dark hair cascading down her back and over the arm of the sofa. She was reading a battered copy of something; as he stood there she turned the page and made a small sound, like a sigh caught her throat. Beside her was a pile of other books. She had only two candles lit and the dim flickering light reminded Snape of the dungeons at Hogwarts.

"Miss Cross," he said without warning her, "why are you out of bed?"

She nearly dropped her book, and gasped in surprise. She turned over on the sofa. "You scared me," she whispered, trying to smile, but the terror, and something else less distinguishable, was evident in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, shutting the door behind him. The voice in his head screamed at him how unwise it was to shut them both in a room together, a dark room for that matter, and in the early hours of the morning? He was tired and like the fool in his dream, weak and open to suggestion. What if he couldn't control himself? Snape sighed. He had to be stronger than that.

He walked over to the sofa and raised an eyebrow. "Interesting bedtime apparel, Miss Cross." She looked down. She was wearing dark sweat pants, and a long cardigan, but the most interesting thing and the only thing he could really be commenting on was her top; a black t-shirt with an emerald green trim at the neck and sleeves. The motif had the Slytherin house crest.

"Oh, this," she mumbled. "Long story short, I borrowed this from Hermione Granger. Don't ask me how she got it...but all my pyjamas were dirty. I didn't count on anyone seeing me." She smiled sheepishly.

"I wonder that you're not a Slytherin," Snape said not looking at her, but at the pile of books now. "You suit the colours so well...what are these?" he added quickly after the uncharacteristic compliment.

"Books, Professor."

He glanced at her smiling face. "How witty you are in the early hours, Miss Cross. You can't sleep," he said.

"Neither can you," she replied.

He shook his head. "What's bothering you?"

Alana bit her lip, and looked down at the book in her hand. "Lots of things," she mumbled. That seemed the safest answer.

"Your father?"

"A little."

"Homesickness?"

"Not really. I like Hogwarts." She paused. "Much better than Beaubatons."

She was keeping it light. Snape tried to smile.

"Your NEWTS?"

"Don't try to guess anymore," she asked rubbing her forehead. "There's too much."

He nodded, still standing. "You'll have to explain your father's behaviour to me. I'm still not sure I understand."

Alana sighed. "It's simple really. We just don't...gel very well. He's a brilliant man, who has always taken care of me but…" she drew a deep breath and wondered why she was telling Snape any of this. "My brother never does any potions with him, and they get on like a house on fire. I'm his 'unofficial protégé' and he can't connect with me."

"And your mother?"

"I love her very much." The sincerity in her voice touched Snape and he swallowed hard.

"I believe your father is the way he is because he can see that you're already very...talented. He can see you surpassing him, and he still wants to be known as the greatest. Has it always been this way?"

"No, it began when my OWLS came through."

"And your grade for Potions?"

"Top of the school."

"Of course."

"Of course."

He couldn't help but smile, and she followed suit. He stopped abruptly, and picked up a book from the pile.

"Have you read these?" he asked looking at the covers.

"Most of them."

"Why...are you reading them again?"

Alana adjusted her position so her legs weren't stretched across the sofa. "Sit down, you're making me nervous."

Moving around the table her sat at the other end of the sofa, trying to make himself feel comfortable and relaxed without touching her feet accidentally, but it was a small sofa. Her toenails were painted a deep red.

"What is so appealing about..." he looked at the cover of her book, "'_Persuasion_', at three in the morning?"

"I can't sleep, and I'm trying to clear my mind, as well as tire it out."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, but someone is supposed to read to you when you can't sleep."

"Well, forgive _me,_" she retorted, smiling with her eyes, "but until now, there was no one else in the room.

He said nothing, merely nodded, and let her carry on reading. Occasionally, she would look up from the pages at his grave face; the dark purple line under his eyes more pronounced in the dim light.

"Why can't you sleep?" he asked suddenly. Alana shut the book, a little irritated her was persistently pressing the issue when getting to the bottom of his sleeping habits was futile. "Nightmares, I guess, though they aren't scary. Just kind of haunting," she replied, shrugging. "It's easier not to sleep than to keep picking up where I left off."

"What do you dream about?" he probed, propping his head up on his arm.

Alana paused. "Sometimes about being followed. Other times about being caught." She closed her eyes momentarily and then flicked her eyes back to his face. "Nothing really."

"Vague, Miss Cross."

"Hmm. Familiar. I'll divulge when you tell me why you can't sleep. In detail," she added raising an eyebrow.

She had him there. He would never tell her. Snape closed his eyes and thought of his dream. When he opened his eyes again, Alana was staring at him, looking thoughtful.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked. "Whatever it was, you were smiling faintly. Did you realise?"

He shook his head and frowned. Alana stared for a few moments longer, recognised that he wasn't going to tell her and looked down at the book in her hands. She suddenly held it out to him. "Can you? Read it to me I mean? I'm concentrating too hard on it to get tired."

"I'm afraid I..."

"Can't read?" Her teasing smile stopped him in his tracks. "You only have to read it for a little while."

Snape took the book from her wordlessly and opened it where the bookmark was. _"To see you," _he began, his low voice already melodic and soothing, _"in the midst of those who could not be my well wishers, to see your cousin close by to you, conversing and smiling."_ He continued for a while, and Alana made herself comfortable, curling up and resting in the crook of the sofa, staring at him as he read.

"_Was it not enough to make the fool of me, which I appeared? How could I look on without agony?"_ he paused and swallowed hard. "Don't stop," Alana murmured, "I was just beginning to feel tired."

"Then you should go to bed, and fall asleep there. Otherwise," Snape said, shutting the book, "I'll have to carry you to bed. A feat which would be near impossible for me. I look strong but..."

"Just read," Alana commanded." I promise I will take myself up, to save you the trouble. Snape wasn't going to but she looked so helpless and anxious. He wanted her to be closer, for a moment, to fall asleep on his shoulder, but he rejected the idea quickly and turned the page. He carried on reading, and he only stopped when he saw Alana's eyelids close, and stay closed. "So much for your promise," he whispered. He closed the book, rose and touched her shoulder gently. She awoke with a start, looking frightened when she saw his face.

"It's time for bed," Snape murmured.

"Right," she grumble, "I said I'd walk." She began to unfold herself.

"I'm sorry, "he found himself saying. "I would carry you, but I..."

Alana looked confused. "It's ok, you're my teacher. I understand why you want these boundaries."

Snape frowned. "Don't _you_?"

"In all honesty, I think sometimes they stop us from being 'good acquaintances'," she said looking up at him. Snape tried to say something but found his tongue was useless. Alana looked away, and pulled her cardigan around her. Moments later, Snape offered her a hand to pull her up, but as soon as she was on her feet, it was her that let go of his fingers, and moved out of the space that made them closer together.

"Goodnight," she mumbled, not looking back. Snape didn't follow her until he heard the soft sound of her door shutting.


	16. Disclosure

**Chapter 16 - Disclosure**

Lucius glanced at Alana as she joined them for breakfast and frowned. "You look tired, Miss Cross. Did you not sleep well?"

"I'm afraid not," she admitted. "Away from home in a strange bed...isn't that what they say?"

Lucius nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. Severus...sorry, Professor Snape, had trouble sleeping also."

Alana's eyes flickered towards Snape and back to the food on her plate. Lucius rolled his eyes while neither was looking. "Dumbledore has kindly taken the liberty of sending your mail here, so you don't miss out on any Valentine's messages," he said pushing a small pile of letters towards her.

Snape looked up, confused. "Valentine's?"

Lucius looked at his friend with wide eyes. "Yes, Severus. Today is the 14th."

Snape nodded and looked back to the newspaper he was reading. Alana was surprised to see a few red envelopes.

"A few admirers, Miss Cross?" Lucius said minutes later, sipping a tea with a smile.

Alana grinned. "One of them is from Draco; but it's got my Christmas present inside that he never gave me." Snape looked across the table sharply but kept quiet.

"Draco? My boy?" Lucius said, with mock horror. Alana pushed the card towards him.

"_Roses are red, violets are blue, no one knows quite how to write my essays like you...thanks for all the potions help, and here is the gift of Christmas past...Malfoy._" Lucius chuckled softly before handing in back. "Well. Isn't he creative?"

Alana laughed. "Very."

"And the gift?"

"Vouchers for Honeydukes."

"Genius."

Alana ripped open another envelope. "This one is from a fourth year, so I won't hold my hopes up."

Lucius smiled and watched Snape's pained expression as he tried to look interested in the newspaper once more. "And the last envelope, covered in hearts?" he enquired, stilling looking at his friend. Snape caught his eye, and gave him a steely glare.

"Um, a Gryffindor final year..." Alana looked uncomfortable. "It doesn't say the name."

Snape folded his newspaper. "There are only ten male Gryffindor's in their final year."

"It's not important really." Alana pushed the red envelopes to the side, so only one white one remained. "If they couldn't be brave enough to put their name, I don't see it working out."

"Well, some might consider Longbottom a catch," Snape sneered.

"I wish you'd leave Neville alone," Alana said loudly putting down the knife which she was buttering her toast with. Lucius sat open mouthed at her outburst. "You're _always_ on his case, bullying him, making him feel worthless. It isn't fair."

Snape sat back, and crossed his arms. "I beg your pardon?" he said quietly.

"You're pardoned," she muttered, under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Snape looked murderous. "How I treat my students is no concern of yours."

"I was merely voicing my opinion. Am I not allowed to do that?"

"Your opinion isn't relevant to my actions against _Neville Longbottom._"

"Someone should stick up for him."

"Oh, and of course it must be you. The heroine, defending everyone."

"Oh, I forgot, I'm not supposed to speak out of turn am I?

"Sometimes you have nothing of worth to say."

Alana took a sharp breath and looked as if she could strangle him there and then. "I see."

Snape leant forward. "And what _is_ your opinion that you see so fit to voice?"

"That sometimes," she said staring directly at him, "you behave like an ass."

Lucius laughed abruptly but was silenced by a steely glare from his friend, and so took at sip of his drink. Alana sat back and picked up the final envelope and tore it open. Snape sat back once more and closed his eyes.

Both men sat in silence as Alana read her letter. At the end of it, she lowered it to the table. Lucius couldn't help but notice her expression which had quickly dissolved from one of anger into sadness. Her eyes looked like they were on the brink of tears.

"What is it?" Snape asked quietly, having seen her too.

"My father," Alana managed to say, "has written to tell me that after the school year is finished, we're moving back to France."

Lucius looked puzzled. "But if the school year is over, surely your schooling won't be affected."

Alana looked at him. "No, but I don't like France. I like England."

"Can't you stay?" Snape said softly. "You're of age."

Lucius wondered at the quick shift in their behaviour towards each other. A moment ago they had been viciously slating each other, but now, the softness in his friend's eyes showed genuine concern, and Alana did not seem unwilling to talk to him.

"My mother..." she began. "I don't have anywhere to go after Hogwarts. Until I get a job, or decide what to do."

She fell silent for a few moments, but then rose from her seat. "Excuse me; we have to go to the convention soon. I should...finish packing." Both men watched her walk out of the room quickly.

"Daddy issues?" Lucius asked.

Snape nodded. "Bizarre ones."

They sat quietly for a while, their food untouched.

"We will come back briefly," Snape said suddenly rubbing his forehead, "to get our bags."

Lucius nodded. "I assumed you would. You're welcome to stay again, if it finishes late."

Snape gave him a nod and rose quickly, leaving Lucius alone in his thoughts.

***

Valentine's fever had swept the convention, and love potions and other lust themed concoctions seemed president in the workshops today. Alana was quiet and observed things with an impassive face, barely acknowledging anyone, and only speaking to Snape a handful of times. She declined lunch even when Snape had gotten stern with her, but her reaction was so different; her quick temper had dissolved and her emotionless answers disarmed him. He gave up after seeing her sad eyes flicker at him briefly, and motioned her onwards.

"We should go back soon," he said, glancing at his watch. It was nearly time for the convention to finish. "We have to get our bags."

"Ok," Alana murmured looking at a stall selling a potion that would allow you to become five times more charismatic.

"Of course, but it would be ridiculous to even attempt that!" cried a loud booming voice a few stalls away from them. Snape immediately recognised who it belonged to, and judging by Alana's sharp turn in that direction, she knew also. Her face was frozen with shook at first, the most emotion Snape had seen in her since breakfast then it quickly evolved into a horrified hurt look. She began to walk towards him. Snape tried to grab her and hold her arm but she shook free, and ran towards the voice.

"Dad," she said; the hurt and anger pouring out in her voice, "Why are we going back to France?"

Mr. Cross turned to look at the person speaking to him. He looked awkward and glanced at the men around him. "Alana, honey, this isn't really the time..."

"Would you rather I wrote a letter?" she said sarcastically. "Why didn't you tell me yesterday? When you saw me?"

Her father stepped forward and took her by the arm. "Excuse me gentlemen, my daughter and I need to talk," he laughed. Pushing her roughly, Algernon Cross led her away from the crowd, and Snape could do nothing but follow dumbly.

Alana pulled away angrily once they were shot of the group. "Are you going to answer me?"

"Alana," Snape said quietly. She threw him a warning look, and turned back to her father, who looked more irritated than embarrassed now.

"I don't understand," Mr. Cross said with his arms folded. "You loved France."

"No! I hate France!" she shouted. "And if you took any time to talk to me, you'd know that."

"You did fine at Beaubatons."

"I didn't have any friends, Dad!" she groaned. "They all hated me. Hogwarts is the only place I've felt at home immediately."

Her father raised an eyebrow. "It's irrelevant which school is better, seeing as we don't plan to move until you've finished."

"And what will I do in France?" Alana cried throwing her arms in the air. "I won't be able to get a job, and I'll have to stay and be your assistant."

"What's wrong with that?" he retorted curtly.

Alana paused and looked at Snape briefly who was frozen, not wanting to get involved. "I'm better than an assistant."

Now it was Algernon's turn to throw his hands in the air. "And I suppose that's Hogwarts that's taught you that! Well, don't forget who showed you how to brew, and how to simmer. You wouldn't have a leg to stand on without my early tutoring."

"Perhaps not, Dad," she said, "but I've gone beyond that now. I want to stay in England."

Mr. Cross took in a deep breath. "But your mother..."

Alana looked down.

"Your mother will be _devastated," _he continued. "You know how much she'll miss you. And what about finances? Where will you stay?"

"I...don't know."

Snape could feel himself getting angry. Why was it she could argue with him for eternity, yet her father had quietened her with a few sentences.

"Besides," Mr. Cross continued, "you won't have to stay forever. But you know, I could use your expertise in my workshop."

Alana shook her head, and began to walk away. "Alana," her father called, "we haven't finished discussing this."

"I'll write," she said without looking back.

***

When they arrived back one look from Snape silenced Lucius, and a tired looking Alana walked swiftly up the stairs to her room. "Bad day?" Lucius whispered to Snape leading him to the study.

"She's a little upset," Snape admitted. "We may take you up on your offer. I don't think she's ready to go back."

"Of course," Lucius nodded, "you're welcome here."

His friend sighed. "I should tell Dumbledore then."

Alana did not leave her room for dinner although a house elf had been twice. The elf, Gabby, said that the girl looked 'ever so tearful and pained' and squeaked that she had began to cry when he had mentioned staying. Lucius looked at Snape. "You had better explain."

"For once old friend, it has nothing to do with me."

***

Alana couldn't sleep again. She knew it was early from the stillness of the house, and there were no birds so it wasn't late enough to be dawn. She sighed. After crying, she had fallen asleep, awoken after a dream, changed into her night clothes, and been awoken once more. She wanted to read again. Maybe this time, she'd take the book up to bed, rather than wake Snape up and cause him t come down. Pulling her cardigan once more, she slipped through the door and down the stairs quickly and silently, missing the creaking step. The library door was closed but she could see a flicker of light underneath the frame. Alana hesitated, and had the same feeling she had gotten the day she had handed Snape her essay. That ominous, foreboding feeling. She shook it off, and opened the door.

At first she thought the room was empty so she headed to the first bookcase where she had found the Muggle Classics. The book she had been reading was gone but she was sure she had returned it. Turning it see if it was still on the table, Alana gasped. Snape was lying in the sofa, asleep. He looked peaceful at first but his breathing was erratic and his chest rose and fell in jagged movements. Alana saw _Persuasion_ bent, with its spine upwards beside him. She suddenly felt sorry for him. He was vulnerable like this. Alana pulled the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa over him. He didn't move, though his lips were parted slightly. She turned to walk back to bed.

"Alana."

She heard her name so clearly that she nearly jumped out of her skin. Turning she closed her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she mumbled. But he didn't reply. Looking at his figure, Alana saw Snape remained unchanged. Still, vulnerable, asleep. She drew a long breath and stepped closer.

"Alana." She saw him murmur it this time, in the dreamy intoxications of sleep; his voice soft and languid, as if he were drunk. She daren't move. Instead she stood over him.

"Alana," he muttered, this time frowning and looking pained. "Please no..."

Alana, transfixed, leant closer. "What?" she whispered. "What am I doing?"

He was silent for a few moments. "No, no, please, I can't...why?" He rolled slightly, his hair falling back from his face. "Don't kiss..." He stopped, and Alana straightened up. "What?" she whispered once more, infuriated now. "Snape."

"I love you," he murmured, his face tight with anguish. Alana gasped loudly, barely trying to conceal her surprise. He awoke suddenly and grabbed her arm. The shock made her legs shake and bend, and her body succumbed to the wave of faintness that washed over them.

"Alana," he tried to say, but sleep made his stern voice sound harmless. "What are you doing?" He let go of her arm. Alana sat dumbly for a moment, his eyes were dark and rich with the desire he had been dreaming of.

"I'm sorry, you looked cold," she managed to say. "Goodnight." Her legs couldn't have carried her faster up the stairs if she'd flown.


	17. Sage Advice

**Chapter 17 – Sage Advice**

Lucius shook Snape's hand and kissed Alana's as they assembled in the foyer to leave for Hogwarts. Both looked tired, and Alana looked unwell.

"I'd almost forgotten," he said suddenly. "Can you give something to Draco for me, Severus?"

"Of course, that would be the least I could do."

Lucius beamed and walked off to his study.

Snape immediately turned to Alana. "In the library..."

"Forgotten." She was staring ahead.

"I didn't mean to grab you. You looked frightened so I thought I would explain." He paused. "I had been dreaming."

Alana looked at him with large eyes. The dark lines under her eyes shook him. "I know. You talk in your sleep," she said clearly. Snape stopped short, his breath ceasing, and the panic evident in his eyes. She turned away again. Before he could answer, Lucius was back and handing him something.

"Goodbye to you both," Lucius said. "It's been a pleasure."

"Thank you," Snape managed to say, picking up his bag. Alana nodded, and disappeared with a_ pop._

***

When they appeared outside the grounds of Hogwarts, Snape looked around for Alana, but she had deliberately apparated metres away and was heading back to the castle, struggling with her bag. He sighed deeply and began to walk back. What had he said? She _must_ know...he had been dreaming of her after all. But she was in no mood to speak to him, he could see that.

Alana headed back as quickly as she could and noticed that Snape didn't try to stop her. She was confused; Snape hated her. Yet, clearly he did not. Alana fought the urge to glance back at him, and kept storming towards the castle.

***

"So, what was it like?" Harry asked as soon as Alana sat down. She'd changed back into her robes, and found herself feeling extremely hungry. Hermione nodded enthusiastically and handed her a croissant. "Yeah, how was it?"

"It was ok, fairly interesting," Alana managed to say, cutting up an apple. "It was just all about potions really. Stayed at Malfoy Manor though." Ron nearly choked on his sausage. "You're kidding? Not only did you have to put up with Snape, but Draco's old man too?"

"Lucius...Mr. Malfoy, I mean," Alana smiled, "Was very nice actually."

"And what about Snape?" Harry asked, sipping an orange juice. "Was he awful?"

"He was..." Alana said looking down. Snape had just walked in and sat down at the head table. "Snape was...Snape." Hermione stared at her, even after the boys looked away, satisfied with her answers. Alana met her eyes and Hermione gave her a small smile. "We'll talk later," she said quietly, under her breath. Alana nodded; grateful she could have one outlet.

***

"Pst!"

Alana looked around and saw Hermione ushering her to the door. "Downstairs," she whispered, because the rest of the dorm was asleep. Alana rolled her eyes, but pulled on a cardigan and hurried down.

"You can keep that pyjama top if you want," Hermione said sitting on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath herself.

"It's ok," Alana smiled, looking down at her Slytherin top. "Who's is it?"

Hermione's eyes twinkled. "Draco's."

Alana raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No, silly," Hermione laughed. "As if." She sighed almost wistfully. "I bought one for every house. The colours look good on you."

Alana smiled and rolled her eyes. "People keep saying that..."

"Enough about t-shirts...I want to know about you trip. The truth," Hermione added, lowering her voice.

Alana drew breath and looked into the fire. "It was bizarre."

She paused. "Remember me cutting myself?" She looked down at her fingers, which were free of bandages but a glorious red. "Well, that night, Snape was being fine with me, but when he bandaged my hand, he...stroked it."

"What?!"

"I know, I know," Alana sighed. "But that isn't the weird part. I completely froze, and he dropped my hand like it was something hot. The next day he was so moody with me. We started the trip with a fight, spent most of the day fighting, but then my father turned up and he started being more civil." She paused once more, looking at Hermione's face. "Later that night, I couldn't sleep, so I went to the library, which is amazing by the way. He, Lucius I mean, has thousands of books, including, get this...Austen. Anyway, he...followed me. Heard me out of bed, I think. We just talked really, and he read to me." Hermione frowned and looked shocked. "Why?" she asked.

"I couldn't sleep, and he said people were supposed to read to you when you can't sleep...and because...I...asked him to."

"He said _yes_?" Hermione's face was a pretty picture of shock.

Alana nodded. "I nearly fell asleep, but I'd promised I wouldn't, because I would have to carry myself to bed. He woke me up. He kept talking about boundaries but I was honest, and said that it was because of his boundaries that we don't get on so well...because, you know, he's always trying to be professional and then he goes cold."

She stopped suddenly at a sound, but it was only the fire crackling. Hermione smiled. "Carry on."

"I'm really tired of it, Hermione. I don't know how to act around him. If I'm civil he is, but then acts like I've offended him, if I'm cold he tries to speak to me again."

"Strange. What did you do?"

"Well, we barely spoke, had an argument, right in front of Lucius..." Alana looked sheepish; "It was later that night really that's troubled me. I went back to the library to get a book to take back to bed. He was...asleep on the sofa. I only went to put a blanket over him but he started talking and...." Alana put her face in her hands, and Hermione touched her arm. "What, Alana?"

"He was dreaming," she managed to say, "about me."

Hermione sat open mouthed. "How can you be sure?"

"Because he kept saying 'Alana' and then all these things. He was begging and pleading. I couldn't move. I wish I had."

"Why?"

Alana leaned closer, and whispered. "He said 'I love you'."

Hermione sat silently, but the shock was brimming in her eyes.

"I was so surprised I gasped, and woke him up. He grabbed me."

"He didn't kiss you!"

"No! No, I ran away."

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. "I honestly don't know what to say, Alana. Does he know you know?"

"I told him, when he apologised for grabbing me, that he talked in his sleep. He seemed to understand what I was getting at. We haven't spoken since."

Hermione sat forward. "What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Dumbledore?"

Alana shook her head, and bit her thumbnail. "That isn't the worst part."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What is?"

"I think," Alana said not looking at her, "I might like him too."

Hermione sat up on her knees. "What!" she hissed.

Alana curled up.

"How long?" Hermione demanded. "How long have you liked him?"

"A long time."

"Why?"

"He's...a good person really."

Hermione raised an eyebrow once more. "Really?"

Alana sighed. "I don't know what to do."

"There is nothing you _can _do. He's our teacher. He's in the wrong. You can't act on it."

"I know," Alana whispered. "I'll be gone soon anyway, right? Just have to cope with it for a little but longer."

Hermione put her arm around Alana's shoulders. "Snape in love, and loved in return. I never thought I'd see it."


	18. Baiting and Sparring

**Chapter 18 – Baiting and Sparring**

Alana sat wordlessly in the dungeon waiting for Snape. He was late for their lesson, which was uncharacteristic for the Professor, and it made her nervous. She felt sick as it was; Alana hoped desperately he wouldn't try to talk to her, that he would just be sullen as usual. When the dungeon door swung open and his black figure stepped through, she immediately looked down at the desk.

He had hoped, by being late, she might have left; his hopes were to no avail, because there she sat in all her silent beauty, not looking at him.

"Miss Cross, here is your work for this evening," he said opening at book from his desk, and pushing it towards her. It was one she had already completed, on numerous occasions. It was bog-standard, yet she took the book mutely and began to prepare everything. Snape didn't know whether to be relieved or not. He had seen her angry silences, when she was cross with him, and although they were uncomfortable, he had quite enjoyed those. He had seen her talking back, and that had been challenging also. But this was the same uncustomary blankness he had witnessed the day before last; the ice cool, unemotional state. He liked her fire, he would rather she were angry with him. Curse him, be disgusted even. But she didn't seem to care. Or to know what to say. He sat down at his desk and decided to ignore her.

Alana finished the potion in less than half an hour, and raised her hand, a gesture that couldn't help but evoke utter surprise in Snape. She had never done that before.

"You've finished?"

"May you test it," she asked politely, her voice quiet and husky.

He rose and walked over to the cauldron. It was the right colour, the right consistency and when tested produced the correct result, yet she didn't watch him complete any of it. In fact, he was beside her and she moved her legs so they weren't touching his robe. Snape looked down at her, and swallowed hard. She was revolted by him. She was shutting him off.

"It is fine, Miss Cross," he said, finally. "Perfect."

"Thank you," she mumbled, picking up her bag.

"Write an essay on the applications of this potion, please."

"You've already set that essay," she said softly, not meeting his eyes. He rubbed his jaw. "The history of it then. Until Thursday?"

Alana nodded and headed for the door. But Snape couldn't bite his tongue any longer; he felt he should explain himself.

"Alana," he said in a strained voice. "Will you sit down?"

She looked like that was the last thing she wanted to do, but reluctantly she turned back and sat in her seat. He didn't sit near her. "Alana, I need to apologise for anything I may have said in my sleep. I could hardly control it."

"So you didn't mean it?" she asked suddenly, her thumb to her lips.

Snape frowned, wondering how to word it. "I...no, that's not what I, well...it was part of a dream."

"OK," Alana muttered. "May I go now?"

"I'm not convinced you understand."

"I understand. You said some things you didn't mean and I shouldn't...take them to heart."

Snape took a deep breath in. "I don't know what I said, so I can't comment."

Alana hesitated. "You said my name."

"Is that all?"

"You said 'no, no, please'. I think it was 'I can't...please...don't kiss..."

Snape swallowed down the lump in his throat as flashbacks of the all too familiar dream appeared in his mind. He knew exactly which moments he had said those parts at. He had begged her to stop, to leave him alone, to take her lips away from his skin. The fantasy girl in his mind was much more eager to make conversation.

"Anything else," he said very quietly.

Alana didn't say anything. Her silence intrigued him.

"What?" he asked a little louder.

"You said," she muttered, "that you loved me." She paused. "That's when you woke up and grabbed me, sir."

_Sir?_ Her formal tones frightened him suddenly. Was this her way of defining the boundaries between them? If so, they were abundantly clear.

"I did?" he asked, already knowing that he had uttered those words in his mind, so they must have escaped his mouth.

"You did." Her eyes met his for the first time that evening, and he saw the same emotion that he had witnessed in her the first night at Malfoy Manor; something undistinguishable.

"Dismissed," he managed to say, turning his back on her. The door shut softly seconds later.

***

Months passed and Snape grew accustomed to her blank demeanour but he did not like it. Alana had lost something of herself; she was not the same anymore and he felt guilty as if he had frightened it out of her that night in the library. He was comforted to see that even with her friends she was not as jovial as she had been. Their lessons passed quickly, her work was as focused as ever, if not better, and it was just as well with the exam period looming.

Alana had taken Hermione's advice and decided that nothing could happen between her and Snape, no matter how much she wanted to speak to him, to fight once more, no matter how much she dreamed about him. She began to understand a little of what he must have experienced; knowing he couldn't act on his emotions but being tormented by dreams. She began to look tired constantly; Harry and Ron always mentioned her dark lines, although Hermione had told them not to. She had been a good source of comfort to Alana.

The final year's ball was approaching fast as well, but Alana did not feel like going. She had protested openly to all her friends, and Harry joked that she would try to use potions to get out of it. Alana had glanced at Hermione with a pained expression.

"When is the potions exam?" Hermione asked, one evening.

"Next Monday," Alana mumbled, looking over some of her old essays. "Feeling confident?"

"Yes," her friend replied. "You?"

"Breezy."

Hermione grinned, but noticed the smile on Alana's face didn't reach her eyes. "You coming to the ball then?"

"I suppose I'd better, though I don't really want to."

"Why?"

"I hate dancing, and...having fun," she joked dryly. She sighed and turned back to her book. Hermione watched her. "You'd better get a date then." Alana shook head. "I don't want to go with anyone. Just a group of friends."

"It might do you some good," Hermione suggested. "Has anyone asked yet?"

"A few people. No one I would go with," she admitted. "Neville…sent me a Valentine's card in February," she said quietly. "I had to let him down gently."

Hermione giggled. "Well, Ron and Harry are taken..."

Alana smiled. "No thanks."

***

It was Alana's penultimate potions lesson before the exam and she took her time walking down to the cold dungeons. Her mind was preoccupied, so much so she didn't hear the footsteps running up to her.

"You scared me!" she cried, when Draco tapped her shoulder.

"Sorry, but you were kinda walking like a zombie," he said eyeing her up. "You ok?"

"Little stressed about exams. I'm ok though, you?"

He nodded. "I just thought I'd say hi. Plus I'm on my way to see Snape." He waved a letter at her. "From my father. Mind if I walk with you?"

"Of course not," Alana smiled.

"Professor," Draco said warmly walking into the dungeon before her. "How are you?"

"What do you want, Draco?" his godfather said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Only to give you this letter..." he said, handing it to the man. "It's from dad. Urgent apparently."

"Anything else?"

"Well," Malfoy said glancing at Alana grinning. "As you know the ball is next week, and I'm on the committee."

"Your point, Draco."

"We need the right number of student to adult ratio, because so many other years are going. I know you didn't plan to come...but we need you."

"No," Snape said bluntly. "I'm not going."

"But..."

"No buts. You've asked before. I'm surprised that you thought my decision on the matter would not be resolute."

"The ball can't go on without you," Alana chimed in. Snape lifted his head, shocked at her voluntary input. "You'd only have to stand there."

"Thank you, Miss Cross. I wasn't aware that Draco was talking to you," he said sarcastically.

She bit her tongue, and nodded. He frowned. Disappointing. He almost had her back.

"I'll...think about it, Draco."

"I need an answer now. I'm on my way to a meeting. Please?" he added.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered.

Malfoy grinned and clapped his hands together. "Great, I'll tell the committee. Excellent." He paused. "Did you find a date yet Alana?"

She looked up and shook her head. "I'm just going with some friends."

"What, Potter and Weasley?"

"No, they have their own dates."

Draco looked thoughtful. "Do you wanna go with me?"

Snape looked up from his desk, concealing his horror.

"I only ask, because Patty has to go home for her grandfather's funeral. You'd be doing me a favour. Seeing as I'm head boy...without a date...I don't think I could live it down."

Alana thought for a moment, and caught Snape's eye. He was willing her to say no in his mind; the very thought of her and his godson terrified him.

"I guess," Alana said. "I don't mind."

Malfoy grinned and winked at Snape, making his blood boil. "Excellent; I'll see you later."

The room was deathly silent after he had left. Alana returned to her text book, but Snape, who was feeling a hundred different things at once, continued to stare at her. After a few minutes she looked up.

"What is it?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Nothing," he said, willing himself to look away. "You're going with Malfoy."

"Yes," she said, looking down. "You just saw him ask me." She paused. "Is there a problem?"

"No." Snape said curtly turning towards the bookcase. "He looks ever so much like Lucius." _Why had he said that?_

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she retorted angrily. His heart pounded.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Well then, why did you say it?"

"I was merely observing. I was just voicing a statement."

"And implying."

"I implied nothing."

"You _implied_ that by accepting Draco I was someway inclined towards his father."

Her tone was clipped and icy, but he could feel it. She was too angry with him to keep quiet now.

"You seemed to like Lucius a lot."

Alana shut her book. "I'm not staying to hear this." She packed her things away angrily. Snape rose.

"You will sit down. This is a lesson. Treat it with the same respect you would any other."

"Respect goes two ways."

"Are we still talking about the lesson?"

Alana ignored him and stormed towards the door. "Miss Cross," he tried to say. "Be seated."

"No!" she shouted turning towards him, her eyes swimming with tears. "You _infuriate _me. How could you be so rude? As if I...and Lucius Malfoy...or even Draco! He's a friend...you..." She slammed her fist into the wooden door, making Snape jump. "Don't ever speak to me again!" she hissed, before throwing the door open and running out.

It was hardly the reaction he had hoped for.


	19. Dancing Queen

**Chapter 19 – Dancing Queen**

Alana did not come to her next potions lesson. She should have seeing as it was the last one before the exam, but she couldn't bring herself to go. She couldn't bring herself to face him. She had made a point of not walking where she thought he might be, and when they were all in the Great Hall, she sat on the left of the boys so she couldn't be seen, and she could not see him. At first she was furious; furious that he had suggested she would do that – her and Lucius? He was a kind man and not many could deny that he was good looking, but she had only known him two days in total and he was her friend's father. What kind of a person did he think she was? But then his harsh words he had said in the past reminded her; she was a Beaubatons girl and they were flirtatious and frivolous, and not worth their salt. Then she was upset, unhappy that he had such a low opinion of her, when she had long regarded him with respect. Whether he deserved it or not.

The exams finally finished and most final years were looking forward to the leaver's ball. Alana was beginning to regret going but Hermione perked her up a bit when their dresses arrived. Draco seemed excited too, but she was sure that was because he was organising it and they had managed to get the Wyrd Sisters to play. Stepping into the Great Hall, Alana didn't know what to expect. She had been too many balls at Beaubatons but they were bound to be different. Like the school, it had been a grand affair, feminine and empty. She knew already that Hogwarts would produce something memorable and warm.

She was right.

The Hall was barely recognisable as grand glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which presently was a night sky with a thousand twinkling stars. The tables had been cleared to leave room for a marble dance floor, already covered in students; young men and women alike in suits, dress robes and dresses. There were a few teachers around them but mostly they were standing near the edge, looking out with a smile. She did not see Snape straight away; he was hidden by a group of students. Seeing him, her green eyes met black and she could not bear to hold his gaze. She tried to smile when Ron came over, but Malfoy pulled her away. "You're supposed to be my date," he teased. "Stop talking to the Weasel."

Snape saw her as soon as she walked in, but she did not see him, giving him the opportunity to observe her. She had worn a dark blue dress which he made her look very pale; her skin looked milky even from this far away. Her hair was curled but looked no different to its usual glossy finish. She looked sick when she caught his eye, and for a moment he couldn't tell whether it was anger he saw in her eyes or something else. She looked decidedly unhappy. Weasley walked over to her making cheerful conversation but he could see she was forcing a smile and listening patiently. His blood rose when his godson, dressed in a similar shade to her dress and his blond hair flopping over his eyes, bound over, said something to the red haired boy and led Alana away, with one hand on the small of her back. It was just as Lucius had done. Thinking about his friend made him feel foolish; why had he said those awful things to her _again. _She was now in a group of people she didn't know particularly well but she took the time to look around at the decorations and tried to look interested when one of the Slytherins started talking to her. _What is wrong with her,_ he mused to himself. Surely she should be happy at a ball. She's with one of the most popular final years. She looks breathtaking...he sighed. It couldn't possibly be that she was that unhappy because of him. Why should his opinion affect her so much? Snape grimaced. He knew the answers already – it was his fault.

It was torture for both of them; Snape had to endure seeing her dancing with everyone that asked her, and Alana had to endure the dancing. She hated dancing. She loathed it with a passion. He body never felt comfortable and it had to move in unison with someone else, a feat she had not managed to master yet. She could feel her potion teacher's scornful gaze on her. He was probably formulating some awful theory on her and the boys she was dancing with. The fact that she was dancing with Neville at the time didn't bode well. Draco slid over near the end of the night and yawned. "Shall we?" he asked, although they had danced at the start of the night. Alana shrugged. "I guess," she said with a small smile.

Draco wasn't an unwelcome partner; he danced much better than her so they didn't move much on the dance floor. "Why so sad?" he asked finally when her silence continued.

"I don't know," she answered safely.

"You're not enjoying yourself?"

She bit her lip. She wanted to tell him she hated dancing but she worried he might become offended and she liked Draco. He was a good friend. "No, I don't feel so good."

"Oh," he mumbled. "I thought it might have something to do with Snape."

She stared at him. "Why?" She resisted the urge to glance over.

"Because. Whenever I go in to the dungeon, there's big atmosphere. Like you're always fighting."

"We _are_ always fighting."

Draco laughed. "I guess. But there's more. Since you went away he's been strange, and my Dad writes to him more often. And he's been scowling at you all night."

Alana raised an eyebrow. "You noticed that?"

"Yeah, it's hard not to." Draco turned her. "He's glaring now."

"He hates me." Untruths came naturally to her now, although she really wasn't sure if this wasn't the case, judging by the blackness of the eyes looking at her.

"Do you hate him?"

She paused. "No, I respect him."

"Hmmm. So you don't like him?"

"He's alright. Like I said, we clash."

Draco looked at her sideways. "Really."

"What are you getting at Draco," she said a little more curtly than she meant, "What are you trying to say?"

"It doesn't matter," he said abruptly, letting go of her. "If you're tired and not well, go to bed. I don't want to keep you up." Alana frowned and then rubbed her forehead. "I'm really sorry Draco. I've been a really bad date."

His facial expression softened and he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Get some sleep, Cross," he said with a smile.

Snape watched her leave the room, briefly stopping to tell her fellow Gryffindors that she was going. They all smiled and Granger looked across at Draco and then to Snape with accusing eyes. He frowned back, but she did not stare for long.

Alana was glad to be able to leave. It had felt much too warm in there and just stepping into the corridors of Hogwarts was enough to bring some form of relief to her burning skin. Suddenly, she didn't feel tired at all. She wanted to go outside and feel the cool evening air. Looking around, there was no one, so quietly she slipped out of a door and into the night.


	20. The Broken Silence

**Chapter 20 – The Broken Silence**

He knew he should not be here. He knew he should not be looking for her. But rather than desire, concern gripped his heart. He worried what she would do. She might go to bed, but knowing her, she would not. He left the hall unnoticed just in time to see her slip through the archway that led to the courtyard. Snape had been right: she would not go to bed as she had said. He waited a little while then stepped out too. She was already far ahead of him and soon she would be at the bridge. Snape knew he should stop, go back, but he couldn't resist. Maybe he could apologise. If he could just look at her once more tonight.

When she reached the bridge she stopped halfway and leaned out to look down. She rested on the ledge and he heard her sigh from where he stood. They were a long way from the castle now.

"Miss Cross?" he called out. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, for he had broken the silence of a very quiet night.

"What is it, sir?" She was still being formal with him.

"How was the potions exam?"

"Fine, thank you."

"Did you think it was fair?"

She looked down once more. "Very."

"You didn't come to your final potions class," he added.

"I didn't feel the need. I'm sorry."

Her tone was blank and monotone and he wondered if he should walk away.

"Alana," he said stepping closer. He saw her stiffen and stand upright. "I wanted to apologise, to say sorry for what I said. It seems one of us is always saying sorry to the other, but I crossed a line."

"Yes, you did." She did not look at him.

"And, I would like to apologise for my conduct for this entire year. At times I have been truly evil towards you; I cannot forgive that." He paused. "It is better to be honest now. Now you are leaving. This year has been difficult. We have been in close proximity of each other, we have personalities that clash even when I am not...'baiting' you, as you once put it, and as you correctly deduced...I have been...am...in love with you."

Alana said nothing but he watched her take in a sharp, jagged breath.

"You must understand my predicament, so that you will not hate me forever. It was easier to be cold and for you to hate me," he echoed the words he had spoke to Lucius, "than for me to be kind, and for you to draw close to me. I realised early on, that when we got along well, it was almost too easy for you to feel comfortable around me, and I you."

"That day in the dungeon, when I brushed your elbow. You told me not to stand too close," Alana uttered.

"Yes, that was the first time. I did try Alana, to be kind and not let you in. I tried ignoring you, but that only made you angry. There has been no simple solution all year. The worst has had to have been when you were not angry, when you felt nothing."

"You think I felt nothing?" she asked. Snape stopped, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I struggled with you ignoring me because I like being close to you...I liked..." she stopped too, her expression hidden from him. "I can't be as honest as you have been."

"You must," Snape began stepping closer. "I don't understand."

Alana looked away. Snape followed her gaze. They said nothing until Snape cleared his throat and asked, "My feelings...are they...reciprocated?" Alana looked back but did not nod or shake her head to tell him the answer. He saw it in her eyes. She turned from him and walked away, to try to reach the entrance of the bridge – to head back to the Castle. Snape reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back; suddenly, he remembered grabbing her once before. Had she felt the same then? That was a long time ago.

Alana tried to struggle free. "Please, let me go sir," she said, trying to be impassive and formal but the edge to her voice, tired and frayed, betrayed her.

"No," Snape said firmly, for he was stronger than she was. "No, come here and speak to me."

"What do you want me to say?" she said tearfully.

"I want you to tell me to the truth. Are you in love with me?"

"Yes."

"How long for?"

"Since before Christmas."

Absurd. She had liked him nearly as long as he had liked her. He let go of her arm.

"Your dreams?" she began to ask. "Was I..."

"Yes," he answered shortly, "You were the woman."

"Tormenting..." she whispered. She looked unhappy again. "You said she was tormenting you."

"You were."

"You were afraid."

"Only because," Snape hesitated. "I could not stop myself. I needed you. I was afraid I might...we were alone a lot."

She nodded as if in agreement. "Why did you say that thing about Lucius?"

"I was jealous. He was easy with you and you with him. He possesses warmth and the ability to be social. I was...unable to be as light as he."

"That's ridiculous! In some of the times we spent together you've been light, and made jokes," she said, completely incredulous.

"But you drew closer..."

"And so what?"

"You are my student."

"It doesn't mean we couldn't be friends. Nothing had to happen between us. We could have got along. You have made this year so difficult for me. I have been unhappy, and miserable. I have missed out on things. I only ever wanted an easy relationship between us. Like you promised, 'good acquaintances' but we have done nothing but fight and hate and I am so tired of it all now..."

He looked at her but she looked at her feet; her toes peeping out of delicate sandals. "I'm tired now," she mumbled. "Please excuse me."

She brushed past him and hurried back towards the entrance of the bridge, and left him standing in the dark. Snape turned in time to see her raise a hand to her face as she ran.


	21. Hindsight

**Chapter 21 – Hindsight**

It was leaving day finally; everyone was catching the train at lunch so the morning had been a flurry of activity. The final years were desperately trying to get around, seeing all their teachers to say goodbye - those who wanted to say goodbye to teachers that was. Snape had only seen Malfoy. Though he did not expect anyone else, he wished wholeheartedly that Alana might come but each time it crept up on him he shook the thought from his head. She would not come to see him, surely. Not after last night.

After all that time, the torture he put himself through and she had felt exactly the same way. Still, that brought little comfort to him. Nothing could come of it. If anything, that made being around her even more dangerous. Merlin knew Severus Snape was thankful it was time for the holidays.

He was pulling some books from his shelves when the latch to the dungeon lifted and his heart jumped. Alana slipped through into the dimness of the dungeon. She looked grave.

"Miss Cross," he said curtly. She shook her head. "I'm leaving soon and I came to say goodbye. I thought maybe we should..." she struggled to find the words. "Put anything that was said last night behind us and part...amicably. As if it hadn't happened?" She sounded hopeful he thought.

"I agree," he nodded, putting down the books and giving her his full attention.

"Good," she said with a faint smile. "You're agreeing with me? That's a first, is it not?"

"I believe I've agreed with you over other things." She narrowed her eyes in a thoughtful expression. "_I_ can't remember any."

"Well," Snape began. "I agreed when you said you were out of line all those times you spoke to me disrespectfully." Alana rolled her eyes and put out a hand for him to shake. "Thank you for all you tutorage this year, Professor."

He smiled and stepped forward, taking her hand gently and shaking. "Thank you for being my student. It has been a privilege to teach someone so good at potions." He paused. "There's something I must say...at the beginning of the year, I degraded you for what school you came from but I have to admit, although you have been many things Miss Cross – stubborn, disobedient, hot tempered..."

"Ok, ok..."

He smirked. "Although you have been those things, you were never what I described as a 'Beaubatons girl'. I cannot accuse you of that. And you really are a very good potioneer."

She nodded, blushing at his compliments. He seemed to notice that his uncharacteristic kindness was making her nervous so he gestured towards the door. "Go on, you must have other people to annoy."

Alana rolled her eyes. "You know..."

"I know," he said, anticipating her train of thought, as he had also been thinking it. "This is how we should have been." He looked away.

Alana looked at him and nodded. "Too late now."

"Hmmm." He paused. "I forgot to say, where are you going? Back to France?"

Alana looked grave and sat down on a stool. "I am for now, but I don't intend to stay there. I sent my father an Owl, the contents of which he didn't like very much, but I can't live in my father's shadow forever," she added. He nodded mutely.

She rose and shrugged. "My mother doesn't care as long as I'm happy." Snape felt a prickle under his skin. How long had it been since he was happy, or some else cared if he was? When he snapped back into reality, Alana was watching him curiously.

"I apologised," he murmured, "You gave me food for thought." He stuck out his hand again to shake hers for the final time. "Goodbye," she said softly.

"Before you go," he found himself saying. "I shall never see you again."

Alana frowned. "What is it?"

He drew her a little closer, and bent his head slightly, although he knew he shouldn't. Alana did not move, though she knew what was coming, so he took this as a sign to continue. He lowered his head to hers and gently kissed the corner of her mouth. He felt her take a sharp intake of breath. She smelt divine. Pulling back a little he touched the top of her jaw line with his mouth also, kissing her lightly on the cheek, trying not to think of how close he was to her neck and how much he wanted to caress it. It was fortunate that his hands were confined by hers. He stepped back, letting go of her hand. "I'm sorry if that was wrong, but I shall never have the chance again. Dreams will fade..." he said wistfully.

Alana shook her head. "That's fine," she said in a husky voice. She turned but looked back at him. Stepping forward she rose on the balls of her feet, brought his head down to her with her hand and touched her lips to his mouth. He returned it briefly, although it pained him. Alana Cross smiled and shrugged. "Sorry if that was wrong..." she said mockingly. He gave her a withering smirk and gestured to the door. "Goodbye Professor," she said softly, leaving through the wooden door for the final time.

"Enough," he murmured. "That was enough." He was talking to himself but it was reassuring and he hoped what he said was true; that with her gone, his torturous dreams would cease.

He couldn't bring himself to smile and frown or move at all after that. He swallowed hard and gave himself a few moments before he moved around to the shelves to put away some books. Already he was beginning to forget her face. And that was the way it should have been.

Snape sighed and looked back at the door, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his robes. Frowning slightly, his fingers wrapped around a cool object hidden within the depths of the fabric. When he pulled out his hand, the golden pencil sharpener lay in his palm. A smile crept across his face and Severus Snape laughed.

THE END

_Please review; there may be a sequel in the works for this one. Well, there's the beginning of the first chapter! Anyone interested? Let me know, and thanks to all my faithful reviewers. You know who you are. xx_


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